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THE SILVER WEDDING. 



THE SILVER WEDDING: 

A RoMAUNT DU ^OYEN AgE, 



TRANSLATED IN VERSE. 



BY 

EVAN ap CO E L. 



*♦♦**♦ "male and female light, 
Which two great sexes animate the world 
Stored in each orb.*'— Milton. 



LONDON: 

HENRY SOTHERAN & Co., 

77 and 78, Queen Street, City; 86, Piccadilly, 

and 136, Strand. 

1877. 



w 






JEntered according tp^Act of Congress, in the year 
1875, by E. W^ Johns, in the Office of the Librarian 
of Congress, at Washington. 



To the Author of ""The Silver Wedding/' 



Poet ! in musing o'er thy lyric }<:: 

Our thoughts are wafted to the silver age; 

And prayers arc breathed, that heavenward years unroll'd, 

May bear thee to the age of everlasting gold. 

C. LlNCOLM. 

Riseholmk, Lincoln. 

22nd December, 1875. 



PREFACE, 



The subject matter of this work sought, and required 
for expression, a metrical version. 

With regard to the versification, it will be found 
to possess some peculiarities ; it is based, in the main, 
on English pentameter for the body of the work ; 
but for " The Legend," on the multisyllabic measure 
of " Christabel," modified to suit an ancient legend 
applied to " modern instances." In other words, the 
subject-matter sought to develop itself as a sonata 
in speech as it were — to record rhythmical thought 
expressing itself in simple rhythmical speech — under 
a very present influence of hearing, mentally, one of 
Beethoven's Sonatas. 

Furthermore, although in The Silver Wedding, 



PREFACE. 



iambic pentameter is mainly employed, there was no 
hesitation in using, as the feeling might dictate, 
dactyles for enlivening the movement of the verse, 
trochees for quickening it, as well as to throw the 
accentuation on another part of the line, and anapaests 
for recoil. 

This was preferred, as being most agreeable to 
the author's own ear ; although in one sense, and 
other things being equal, it is easier to write in the 
formulated cadenced construction of couplet, triplet, 
or quartrain, than in the versification here in this 
work used, by as much as right-line drawing is easier 
than the art that guides the hand truthfully, solely 
through thought and feeling. 

The English language, differing so thoroughly 
as it does from the Greek, has this in common with 
the Greek — the subtlety of its rhythmical expression 
through accent. Nay, more ; the rhythmical power 
of the English tongue rests almost solely upon accent, 
and little, or none at all, upon the arithmetic of 
syllables posted up, as it were, into journals and 
ledgers of properly recorded feet, and properly done 



PREFACE. vii 

into a correct balance-sheet. The nation of shop- 
keepers and their offshoots are sufficiently careful 
of such method, in certain books devoted to the 
literature of profit and loss ; but their poesy abhors it, 
and ever looks back to the refuge of Druid -woods 
and to the oak-born misletoe. And well may German 
critics wonder that certain writers and certain canons 
of criticism should seek to shackle so grievously the 
rhythmical flexibility (its greatest charm) of the 
English language, — an attempt nearly about as suc- 
cessful as would be an endeavour to amend the grand 
regular irregularity of a Gothic cathedral by drawing 
over its plan the lines of a Greek temple. Both styles 
are thoughts of God refracted through the human 
mind. But God thinks without confusion. So the 
inexorable law of hybridity, by which the Creator 
has bounded all forms of growth beyond certain 
limits, includes necessarily the form-growth of the 
speech of the peoples and their expression of thought ; 
and environment Gf circumstance, powerful as may 
te its action upon these, is ever re- acted upon by the 
-inner life-principle until development is brought back. 



PREFACE. 



and held true to the original type, within its never- 
ceasing strain. 

And ever has the English tongue sought to 
free itself from bondage, which each successive con- 
quest strove to impose upon its resulting composite 
structure. Not all the empire of Kome over Britain, 
or of Eome's derivative power through the French 
and Norman-French, or the influence of other foreign 
admixture, have permanently availed to alter the 
syntactical arrangement of the language, composite 
as it is, beyond the scope of its own natural laws of 
development, or to permanently cramp its inherent 
life- principle — the rhythm of accents. 

Not unjustifiably, therefore, does this work cast 
off the torque — and with it, all deference to the 
tyranny — which a taste false to the genius of the 
language, and false canons of criticism have cramped 
around the throat of English utterance. Not un- 
justifiably does it claim a righteous liberty ; liberty, 
not license ; the laws of its construction are severe 
and exacting, and proved to be as much so now, 
after a year and more have elapsed since the writing 



PREFACE. ix 



of the work, as they were felt to be during its progress. 
But these laws are the natural exponents of that 
inherent life -principle of the language, the expression 
of rhythmical thought through rhythmical accent. 
Thus, then, the principle of the versification of this 
work is the rhythm of accents, and not of arithmetical 
syllables and feet, leaving these to take heed to their 
own going. And so strong was the impression of 
this rhythmical accentuation upon the writer, that 
he hopes he may be pardoned for mentioning that, 
for weeks after the work had been completed, there 
was felt a curious effect entirely analogous to that 
experienced by one who, lately landed from a sea 
voyage, still feels for days after, the rhythmical 
movement of the vessel. 

Finally, as to the versification, it may be remarked 
that, for much the same reasons given above, 
rhyme has been employed, dropped, or resumed 
at will. 

The Legend, which carries the symbolism running 
through " The Dwarf," " The Boar's Head and Knife," 
11 The Magic Mantle," and " The Gifts," is entirely a 



x PREFACE. 

growth of the work, and was suggested by a few 
paragraphs in Mrs. Matthew Hall's " Queens before 
the Conquest." The author could wish his own 
work might meet with sufficient favour to prompt 
a reference to a most interesting work of a most 
accomplished lady writer. Some cavil might ari-e 
as to the historical accuracy of the Legend which 
ascribes to King Arthur the ordainment of the 
Silver Wedding. To this it may be justly replied, 
that before the Legend can be disproved on this point, 
it may be necessary to prove that Arthur existed 
at all. 

It only remains to refer to the philosophy and 
religious ideas of the work; and on these points 
it is sufficient to say, that the key to them, should 
any be needed, may be found in the following excerpt 
from that noble Hymn (the third) of Synesius, 
which Coleridge quotes in his Biographia Liter aria 
in the original, untranslated. For a better under- 
standing of the subject of the extract as the key 
referred to, the author begs leave to give here the 
original Greek with a translation made as literal 



PREFACE. 



as condensation of the thought with the rhythm 
would permit; — 



Mvsas Sc Noos 
T& T€ /cat TaAcy€4, 
Bv#ov OLpprjrov 

' AfA<f>L\Op€ViDV. 
2v TO TiKTOV €<f>VSy 
2v TO TtKTOfXeVOV 
2l> TO <f>iJTL^OV 

2v to Xafuro/xevov 

2l> TO </)GUv6/l€VOV 
2l> TO K/0V7TTO/XCVOV 

'IoYous 'avyais. 
'Ev kcu 7ravTa 
'Ev /ca^' 'cavro 
Kcu Sua irdvTUiV 



'Inwardly brooding 
Soul to itself speaketh, 
Round depth unutterable 
Quiring about: — 
Thou, the Begetting art, 
Thou, the Begotten art : 
Thou, the Divine Flame, 
Thou, the outblazing Light I 
Thou, the Made-Manifest, 
Thou, the HiddeD, deep in 
Splendours peculiar. 
One, yet All-Things, 
One, as Itself lone, 
Yet throughout All-Things.'* 



Lo, here, a magnificent symbol of The Incarnation \ 
and in a secondary sense, the Soul, Mind, or Ndos, 
shut in upon itself (/xvo>, or /xv£o>) may be supposed 
as addressing itself, through its union with God, as 
a duality, with the higher Christian Pantheism of 



xii PREFACE. 

St. Paul — that is, as itself in God, of God, or as 
part of God, who is All, in All, and above All. 

To Him, the All-Father, from whom it came, 
is offered, in reverent humility, this work, to swell, 
though never so feebly, that great Anthem which 
?ver goeth up to him from all His Creation — that 
great Hymn He singeth back to Himself through all 
His works, to lull His Sabbaths to rest. 

University of the South, 

Sfwanee, June 9th, 1875. 



following Review of tlie MS. of u The 
Silver Wedding/ 1 by Dr. John B. Elliott, 
Professor of the Exact Sciences in the University 

of the Soutli, is so chaste in styU t and enters int > 
such a thorough analysis of this work, thai the 
author has sought and obtained Professor Ellio 1 
permission to append it here as a Suppleme):' 



EEVIEW of the MS. of -The Silver Wedding," 
by Dr. JohnB. Elliott, Professor of the Exact 
Sciences, in the University of the South. 



THE SILVEK WEDDING, 

No work can be rightly judged unless fully 
comprehended. For this reason we think " The 
Silver Wedding" will meet with much adverse 
criticism from those who, in a hasty reading, seek only 
for the pleasures of sense. The poetry of its plan is 
fathomed only after careful study ; while the moral 
of the poem in its highest application, depends upon 
an understanding of its peculiar philosophy. 

The work is essentially a unit. It cannot be 
taken to pieces and criticised in detail without doing 
at once injustice to the author and to the conception 
which he embodies. Its constructive merit lies in 
the connection between a legendary symbol and its 
development in the main poem. The legend is a 
key-note, the poem is the full sonata ; they echo 



REVIEW. 



and re-echo throughout the entire work, closing at 

last in a full and final accord. 

This is, nevertheless, but a bald statement of the 

case. To give a just idea of the work as a unit, a 

detailed description of its construction must be 

entered into. The main poem is divided into five 

separate parts, as follows : I. At Borne; II. Library 

and Larder; III. Teraphim; IY. In Memoriam ; 

V. The Gifts. Through these five parts, run hand in 

hand, the Legend and the Poem. The Legend is 

laid in the sunset days of King Arthur's court ; in 

those dark days when upon the grand old king began 

to dawn the " loathsome opposite of all" his "heart 

had destined ;" when the fair, false Guinevere had 

already sown the seed of that sad cry, wrung from 

her by the king's forgiveness : — 

11 Ah my God, 
" What might I not have made of thy fair world 
" Had I but loved thy highest creature here ! " 

and heard already echoed in her heart, the "Late, 
too Late " of the little maid's refrain. 

During one day of feasting and mirth in this 
degenerate court, transpire the judgments embodied 



REVIEW. XV11 

in the Legend. Like the main poem it, too, is divided 
into five parts, each one of which precedes and 
stands as a symbol for the corresponding part in the 
poem. Thus, the Dwarf precedes and symbolizes 
At Home ; the Boar's Head, and Knife precede and 
symbolize Library and Larder; while The Mantle, 
The Gold Wrought Horn, and Tuagnr, precede and 
symbolize respectively the Terajihim, In Memortam, 
and The Gifts. The main Poem, the celebration of a 
Silver Wedding, is laid in modern times. Each part 
of the main Poem is a picture of perfect love and 
happiness centred upon the moral of the Legend as 
a study. As we glance at the fulness of the con- 
ception as embodied in the work, we can see in the 
degenerate court a symbol of a fallen world ; in the 
Dwarf a judge; in Sir Cradocke and his "Ladie 
fair" the remnant of the faithful, while in the main 
poem we catch that strain of happiness, which 
awaits the good, through love made perfect. 

The connection between the Legend and the 
Poem is made more close by Sir Cradocke of the 
Legend, symbolizing Bran Cradocke of the Poem ; 



:xviii keview. 

this identity of names seeming intended to partially 
•confuse, and thus to provoke interest and enquiry. 
The unity of the plan is not entirely fathomed until 
part fifth is reached. The author does, nevertheless, 
teach us by the different style and diction of the two 
parts that the poem is dual, and that the one in its 
simplicity and brevity is but the germ of the other. 
In the Legend the diction is terse and often abrupt. 
It seems designed to represent the undeveloped 
language of the legendary age, and takes us back to 
the days when subject and object were deemed the 
most important constituents of sentences. In the 
Poem the measure and diction is more flowing and 
elaborate, more modern. Here, in passing, we make 
a plea with our author for more liberality in future 
In the use of pronouns and articles in such expres- 
sions as the following, from the Legend : — 

" But some eat, only palate to cheat," 
" Nor any failure now I dread," 
J * Quoth Sir Cradocke. And Boar's head." 
He carved all true " 

While making such suggestions we nevertheless 
realise that our poet is intentionally "fighting back' ' 



REVIEW. XIX 

from the sugar- sweet flow of modern verse to the 
rugged simplicity of the older writers. Still such 
reforms should rather be the gradual result of 
successive modifications. Much the same intention 
is shown in the versification ; the quality of the 
work being hinted at in the metrical difference of 
the two parts. Against the "rhythm of arithmetical 
syllables and feet " war is declared, and the versifi- 
cation is based upon the "rhythm of accents." 
The author takes his stand expecting adverse criti- 
cism, but nevertheless, is bold in courting it, if so 
be he may maintain intact the full capabilities of 
English verse. This we deem will need no defence 
as long as Milton's verse is adrnired. 

Such is the least we can say concerning the 
method and manner — the plan and structure of the 
work. Its aim and purpose can only be caught 
through a right understanding of the philosophy 
upon which the Poem rests. We have this philo- 
sophy shadowed forth in the preface in a translation 
of a portion of the Third Hymn of Synesins, present- 
ing a symbol of the Incarnation. In relation to this 

b 2 



XX KEVIEW. 

our author adds that in such language we may in a 
secondary sense suppose the soul " addressing itself, 
through its union with God, as a duality, with the 
Higher Christian Pantheism of St. Paul." Passing 
for a moment from our author's philosophy to the 
criticism of an expression, we would take exception 
to the term Higher Christian Pantheism, not for any 
objectionable meaning implied in this place, but 
simply for its general uselessness. Christianity has 
no need for it, and gains nothing by the use of a 
term that is generally used in an anti - christian 
sense. Christian Pantheism is Theism. In another 
portion of the same hymn of Synesius, given by our 
author from Coleridge, it is made plain that the 
pantheism of Synesius is Spinozism, but with much 
more in addition. The ' * One and all " of Spinozism 
is supplemented by the " One of all" and the " One 
and oefore all" which, complementing Spinozism, 
raises it to Christian Theism. Admitting the seeming 
convenience of the expression ' ' Higher Christian 
Pantheism" as intended to intensify and broaden 
conceptions conveyed by the expression " Christian 



i 



REVIEW. XXI 

Theism," we nevertheless deprecate its use as 
tending to cast out an older expression which should 
be understood to embrace it. But, as we have said, 
we are criticising an expression and not our poet's 
philosophy. This latter includes all that the objec- 
tionable expression may mean in its highest sense, 
with rather an original application of its own. This 
peculiar application or interpretation of Christian 
Theism is the key-note of the work. 

" The All builds all thro 1 quest of mate to mate." 
11 Know sex for object-subject." 
11 built through strife 

11 of like-unlike, or sex, 



" Self complemental. — " 

are expressions which, with many others of like 
nature, we find running through the warp and woof 
of the poem. We do not think that we transcend 
the author's conception when we run this refrain of 
like-unlike back to the spiritual union of the sinless 
with the sinful, and see in the spiritual redemption 
of mankind, the great type of all creative union. We 
have in the incarnation (the spiritual reproduction, 
or redemption, of the spiritual all by the all), the type 



XX11 KEVIEW. 

of the production of the physical all by the inter- 
action of the physical " like-unlike " "through quest 
of mate to mate." Enlightened hy this idea, the 
high moral of the poem breaks upon us. Between 
the purely spiritual ideal of " like-unlike " acting for 
man's redemption, and the purely physical idea of 
" male- female " throughout organic reproduction, 
stands man, in whom the two combine. Destined 
by the eternal plan to multiply through " quest of 
mate to mate," as do all beneath him in the scale of 
being, he yet contains within him that spiritual 
element through which the marriage tie, as God- 
ordained, becomes a sacred and holy thing. Such 
we conceive to be the moral and the purpose of the 
work. A noble conception, successfully fulfilled. 

In regard to the general treatment of the subject 
we must grant to our author the true crown of the 
poet; He maketh all things new. He has given 
us in a setting — rugged, many will say — but neverthe- 
less brilliant, the never-fading jewel of Ideal Purity. 
Through the joy and the tears of the Silver 
Wedding we see its radiant flash and feel its worth. 



EEVIEW. XXI 11 

The simple story lifts us from our moral turpitude 
to gaze upon what we should be as integral parts, 
of that universe which has its beginning and 
end in the everlasting I AM. In these days of 
Mechanical Atheism and Dynamical Pantheism we 
say to all such works, " God speed." They point us 
past these incomplete philosophies to that high 
home above the dust, the strife, the wrong, where, 
born on poets' wing, we sometime drearn we touch 
and rest, dwelling for a lightning's-flash in the 
nameless Peace of God. 

JNO. B. ELLIOTT, M.D., 

Prof. G/wm. 



The reviews following, by the Professor of English 
Literature and the Professor of Theology, having 
been received, are added to that preceding ; and 
having also received a note from a lady who had 
borrowed the MS. of " The Silver Wedding," the 
author cannot refrain from enclosing it herewith, 
valuing it as the opinion of an intelligent and well- 
read woman. 



REVIEW of "The Silver Wedding," by Professor 
H. Dabney, Professor of English Literature and 
Metaphysics. 



This work is a hymn to the spirit of Love as 
exhibited in all the realms of nature, giving coherence 
and unity to the whole plan. God, as himself 
one, has created his universe to contain, in all its 
variety, an essential unity ; and the correspondence 
of part to complementary part is as necessary to the 
conservation as to perpetuation 0I * nature. This 
spirit of unity is Love, or like seeking like though 
unlike. 

It is this thought, this conception, that runs 
through the whole piece, giving to it its form, its 
tone and its colouring. As it treats of essential unity 
in apparent duality, the poem is itself an essential 
unit in a dual form : the Legend and the Silver 
Wedding running parallel until they converge in the 



XXVI REVIEW. 

conclusion and bend into one ; harmonious ; like 
though unlike ; complementary, the one to the other. 
The one is an ancient legend ; the other its modern 
correlative exhibiting that the same spirit pervades 
ancient and modern alike. Not only does this spirit 
pervade all time, but it pervades all space ; and the 
details of the poem are an application of this idea of 
correspondence to the facts of nature ; that there is 
a marriage unity in all the works of God, mental 
and physical, animate and inanimate, organic and 
inorganic, in the winds and the waves, in the sun 
and the moon and the starry hosts, in joy and 
in sorrow, in the Ariel and the Caliban that are in 
man, in Christ and His church, in God and His 
universe. It would carry us much beyond our 
limits to trace the correspondences of part to comple- 
mentary part as exhibited, described and exemplified 
in the work ; but its form and its structure savour of 
it throughout. It is exhibited in the double form of 
the work itself; described in the course of the 
narrative and the detail of the poem ; exemplified 
in the imagery and verse ; all conspiring in their 



EEVIEW. XXV11 



complex multiformity to produce a unitized impres- 
sion on the mind. The unity is not a simple classic 
but a complex Gothic one ; indeed, there is much of 
the gothic spirit breathing through the work : and, 
though complete in itself, it may well be but a part 
of a larger and a grander whole. It is this unity 
of correspondency that gives shape to the poem, 
measure to the verse, coherence to the imagery, 
and language to the thought. 

The recognition of these correspondences, this 
dualunity of nature, material and spiritual, as a 
philosophic fact, is capable of being stated hi a 
didactic poem and discussed as a philosophic ques- 
tion ; but, imaged under the representation of love 
and marriage, it obtains a poetic interest, without, 
however, losing its philosophic import. Thus it is, 
that the poem treating of such a problem may, in all 
strictness, be called a philosophic poem, not in the 
sense of mere didactic truths cramped into verse, as 
in Pope's " Essay on Man," but imaged to the mind 
in true ideal or poetic style. It is this power to 
discern and appreciate the internal beauty of the 



XXV111 REVIEW. 

universe, which makes poetry a perennial stream 
not confined within geographical limits/ but flowing 
through all lands, fertilising and beautifying God's 
footstool and rejoicing the heart of man ; not indi- 
genous to certain stages of intellectual development 
or degrees of civilisation. Of the poetic import of 
the universe we would say, as was said of truth — 
44 The eternal years of God are hers." 
Iii fact, the poetic is the ideal true ; in the 
words of Mr. Carlyle, — "The writer should betake 
himself, with such faculty as he has, to understand 
and record what is true. Poetry, it will come 
more to be understood, is nothing but higher know- 
ledge and the only romance (for grown persons), 
Eeality." If we do not mistake this is more and 
more becoming the poetic creed of the modern 
school. External nature in its outward forms is 
the centre and circumference of Scott's poetry ; 
passion is the deity which reigns in Byron's ; but 
intellectual insight, the power to discern and appre- 
ciate the internal harmonies of the universe, " the 
sense sublime " of the " spirit " " rolling through all 



REVIEW. XXIX 

things " is the spirit of Wordsworth's lofty rhyme. 
This style is pushed to its extreme by Mr. Tennyson, 
of whose school, it is evident, the author is. The 
language of the legend is very Tennysonian. He is 
evidently a zealous devotee of the Poet Laureate, who 
is no democrat in letters, but writes for the initiated, 
and does not " carry his secret on his sleeve." 

Differences there may and will be about how the 
author has performed his work ; but, for that he has 
spoken a true word of how God's universe has 
imaged itself to his mind, and that he has truly 
recorded what he has seen in it ; we gratefully accept 
it, and regard it as a worthy offering on the shrine 
of truth. As a whole, we esteem it as a work of 
much merit ; and besides telling its own story, it 
shows the writer to be a man of deep sensibility, 
permeated with the spirit of melodious thought. 

To be fully appreciated, it requires more thought 
than can be reasonably expected from the casual 
reader, who reads to be amused, or to fill up the 
vacancy of an idle hour; for him this poem was 
not written. 



XXX REVIEW. 



BE VIEW by Rev. Dr. Du Bose, Professor of Theology 
in the University of the South. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 

The writer of this notice regrets that he can only 
record the impressions left upon his mind by a rapid 
and single reading of the above-named Poem ; and 
that, after so long a time as renders it impossible 
to give an account of the causes to which the 
impression is due. 

It is some months since, overcoming a strong 
reluctance to examining literary, and especially 
poetical, matter in MS., he sat down not over 
willingly nor hopefully to the perusal of the " Silver 
"Wedding." He had been requested, as he now in 
turn takes the liberty of requesting others, to read 
che poem through, if possible at a sitting, and to 
suspend judgment until it can be judged of as a 



REVIEW. XXXI 

whole. As he himself thus sat and read he imper- 
ceptibly lost all note of time ; and when at last he 
rose and laid down the book, as unwillingly as he 
had taken it up, there was a spell upon him similar 
in kind and only inferior in degree to that exerted 
over him fifteen years before by Tennyson's Idyls. 
But this impression was only the gradual result of 
continuous reading. It was only by degrees that 
his not over poetical ear, trained only in Tennyson's 
subtle and perfect music, fell into the unusual and 
not always smooth and easy rhythmical movement 
of the verse. Still more it was only by degrees that 
his mind scaled the heights and sounded the depths 
of the profound philosophy which finds here an 
utterance for itself, and constitutes, perhaps, the 
serious purpose of the poem. 

The author is through and through Tennysonian ; 
and yet at the same time just as thoroughly indi- 
vidual. He is the opposite of an imitator. He is 
intensely original, so intensely original that his very 
faults are so a part of himself that one sees not how 
they can be separated from him. His work not 



xxxii REVIEW. 

only comes from himself, it is himself. And it does 
not choose for itself a form ; it makes for itself a 
form, by an inward necessity and law of its own. 

This is true both of his poetry and of his philo- 
sophy. In the latter especially, he cannot use at 
second hand the cut and dried phraseology of the 
school. His thought must mould its own forms ; 
in consequence of which he is not easily understood 
hy those who are tied to the language of the schools. 
To understand him, one must enter into his mind 
and understand his words, not as the text book 
understand them, but as he understands them. 

But he is Tennysonian inasmuch as he is poet- 
interpreter of those elements in our nature, which 
have found voice and utterance, first, perhaps, m 
Wordsworth, but fully and completely only in Inm, 
to whom we do homage as Poet Laureate, not only 
of England but of the English-speaking world. The 
passions are developed in all, and the poetry of the 
passions is comprehensible to all. The school of 
Tennyson gives voice to something in us higher than 
onr passions-that better part which is not developed 



review. xxxiii 

in all, and the language of which is not intelligible 
to all. In it we find utterances for those subtler, 
finer, higher elements of our nature, which need to 
be cultivated in order that they may be known to 
exist, and the language of which, therefore, is com- 
prehensible only to the cultivated few. The soul 
craves something above the mere gratification of 
earthly passions. It throws out delicate tendrils 
into the unknown that lies beyond the sphere of 
sense, and seeks to lay hold of and cling to the 
Infinite and the Eternal. Earthly love like that of 
Sir Cradocke — or the more modern Bran Cradocke — 
purged from all earthly impurity and assimilated to the 
Divine love : or, higher still, love like Sir Galahad's, 
lifted above the earth and earthly objects and made 
divine : earthly love purified, love purifying itself 
above the earthly and rising into the heavenly — 
these are the themes of this purest of all our schools of 
poetry. And this is the theme of this poem, the puri- 
fication of love, until human love become again in the 
end that which it was in the beginning, one with the 
divine love, and man and God become One in love. 



I ■ '■ " ■ 



DEVOIR. 



Place aux Dames ! — 
Aux Dames du moyen age 
Place d'honneur! 



CONTENTS. 



PROLOGUE . 
I. AT HOME 

The Legend — 

1. The Dwarf 
At Home . 



rase 
39 



57 

77 



II. LIBRARY AND LARDER . 
The Legend — 

2. The Boar's Head and Knife. 
Library and Larder 



So 

87 
97 



ttl. TERAPHIM .... 

The Legend — 

3. The Magic Mantle 
Teraphim .... 



107 

109 
125 



XXXV111 CONTENTS. 

Page 

IV. IN MEMORIAM 157 

The Legend — 

4. The Gold-Wrought Horn . . . 159 
In Memoriam 175 

V. THE GIFTS .7 211 

The Legend — 

5. Tuagor 213 

The Gifts 221 

THE EPILOGUE 243 

L'ENVOY . 252 






THE PROLOGUE. 



THE PROLOGUE. 



Lord God of Light, almighty Word, 

When thro' the void reverberate 
With Thy grand loneliness, was heard 

Nor speech, nor sound, of aught create : 
Thy Thought from that dread silence spoke- 

" Let there be light : " and there was light : 
Light ! instant Light ! and then awoke 

Thy Tower all-creative, bright, 
Eefresht in Thine own beams, to build 

The All thro' light, and heat, the bride 
Of light ; thro' married rays that gild 

With beauty, or secluse, do hide, 



42 THE PROLOGUE. 

To warm, and nourish, and cherish, anew, 

The All from Thee to being, whorled 
Light ! male and female light, which two 

Great sexes animate the world, 
Stored in each orb." Lord of Light, 

Almighty Thought, Word, Power, Deed, 
Who from on High, thy place of might, 

Thy humblest deignest still to heed 
That work thy worts, though lowest cell, 

Bacterium, or sparrow's fall, 
Or lily bloom'd thy power to tell 

In lowly beauty ; Lord, to all, 
Thy Light is rayed to wake the song 

Of being and work, all have, from Thee, 
To sing Thy praise — Deign, Thou, that wrong, 

Untruth, mar not my minstrelsy." 

Thus I, as seeking help : to sing 
A theme mysterious, yet plain 

* Milton. See Title-page motto. 



THE PROLOGUE. 43 

And homely ; reaching furthest ring 

And verge of planet to blend its strain 
With spheral harmonies ; yet voiced, 

Low- voiced, from the nursery 
Of human mother, or all rejoiced 

For saving birth, triumphantly, 
In song of the Virgin Mother. Nay, 

A theme of All, building the All, 
Thro 1 quest of mate to mate : the day 

Of all existence sped in thrall 
Of male and female light : thro' will 

Of God, Creator ; yet, Himself 
Wed with humanity ; while, still, 

Begotten Son of Man, Himself 
The only begotten Son of God, 

God humbled to humanity, 
And made to kiss the Father's rod, 

To set his earthborn brothers free ; 
God, wedded with humanity 

To bless the All to lowest molds : 



44 THE PROLOGUE. 

And since the highest, humanity, 

The type of all the rest enfolds, 
Made in His image ; so in bond 

Of God-join'd human pair is type 
And blessing whole and round, 

When is a generation- cycle ripe : 
And this I sought for help to sing 

Of light, male and female, shedding 
A lifetime glory: this theme to sing — 

The Symbol of the Silver-Wedding. 



For, on a winter's evening, one, 

A friendly visitor, my room 
Had left ; and left me there alone 

When winter's darkening evening gloom, 
Made cheerful by a glowing hearth, 

Invited musing on our talk : 
Which all was on the sterling worth, 

And life-tried virtues, and daily walk, 



THE PKOLOGUE. 45 

Of a married pair, much valued friends, 

Whose Silver- Wedding, the eve before, 
We both, with throng of other friends, 

Had sought to crown with honour more, 
And with a difference of renown, 

Than ever Silver-Wedding gained : 
And my companion, now just gone, 

Was he w r ho thus my song constrained 
To sing the Silver- Wedding. He 

Full well this worthy pair had known 
Throughout their lives, and came to see 

Their second nuptials ; came to own, 
As spokesman for the rest, then- worth, 

And all there, known were well, to him ; 
Though, save his name, unknown his birth ; 

And he was aged ; and shrunk in limb ; 
Though bright and keen his eye. And some 

The younger folk — so aged was he, 
Irreverent said he first had come 

When all began, and so would be 



46 THE PROLOGUE. 

Till all had ending. Men and times 

He seem'd to know as one whose eye, 
On manners, customs, of all climes 

And every age, had look'd ; to die 
Not doom'd, it seem'd indeed. He told 

Of all their youth ; their married life ; 
How five-and-twenty years had roll'd 

Around to wed again true man and wife, 
Bringing them honours from the past, 

To crown the worthy pair esteem'd 
Of all the worthiest. And his talk, 

As is the way of elders, teem'd 
With anecdote ; with ancient saws 

Ee-set with modern instance : nay 
He even told, to show the laws 

Unchanged that human nature sway, 
A Legend of an olden time 

Grown dim beyond the centuries 
Confusing all, save but for rhyme, 

As walking men and trees. 



THE PROLOGUE. 47 

But told as though himself had seen 

Whereof he told. " Translate, " he said, 
" And blend truth old, with new — I mean 

Old truth renew to bridle the led, 
Eash, foaming steeds of Progress, fretting 

To break away. Much is wrong 
With Progress, thro' flimsy harness, setting 

On new departures forth on long 
And weary, doubtful way that wends 

Throughout the ages. Put old wine 
Into new bottles ; and though ends 

The journey only on dividing line 
Between eternity and time ; 

And though the wine be drawn from cask 
Forgotten, cob webbed, from its prime 

Of vintage cellar'd, your task 
Shall have reward : for put old wine 

Into bottles new, and none shall break : 
And truth renewed is truth divine, 

Etern the thirst of soul to slake. 



48 THE PROLOGUE. 

Hear even your great thinker' 1 ' call 

To kindle the sacred fire anew 
On th' altar smouldering, yet not all, 

Though well-nigh, quench'd for want of true 
Enlivening zeal of vital faith : 

1 For faith makes us, and not we it, 
Makes its own forms ' with truth he saith. 

I know on heart of time is writ 
* The faith delivered to the saints 

Once and for all time.' Other truth, 
The thinker utters — nay sun paints 

This truth on ripened fruit, in ruth 
As for its fall, to earth drawn down 

With seed enwomhed for birth from death ; 
To glory, from dishonour, sown ; 

Eaised from humility ; by breath 
Of vernal breezes fanned in warm 

And gladding sunlight, — again to be. 

* Emerson. 



THE PROLOGUE. 49 

Yea, true it is, attract and charm 

Of gravitation, and purity, 
Purity of heart, have lode 

In one identic law concluse 
Whereby the All shall see its God, 

Come home to Him again to fuse 
Into His will. For attract and law 

Of gravitation are the Ought 
And Conscience that all matter, draw 

To duty ; and are one with Ought 
And Conscience of the soul made pure, 

And making pure, thereby : one law 
For both to make their orbit sure, 

Lest free-will, free-play, from orbit draw : 
One law, only differentiate 

As may the object- subject be : 
For Spirit, Matter, are perturbate — 

Nay, of the All-machinery, 
What, but working-loose, is free-will, 

Of universe the wear and tear, 



50 THE PROLOGUE. 

Allowed, yet needing the maker's skill 

And watchful, overruling care, 
With Progress much is wrong, my friend," 

Continued he — " much every way. 
And now reaction seeks to mend 

The broken cisterns of the day : 
Disgust begins to ask what mean 

These wild, vain beatings of the air ? 
Wherefore on help of leaders lean 

Who lend support to lead nowhere, 
Save as the blind do lead the blind ? 

Under the sun is nothing new 
But change, yea ceaseless change, to bind 

Anew the old to work the true, 
Unchanging will of God. I know," 

Said he — "have seen, before this day, 
Much wrong with progress thro' the throe 

Of wabbling' 1 ' free-will : and this say 

* See Webster's " Unabridged Dictionary " for definition of 
this word. 



THE PROLOGUE. 51 

Of ill to Progress — well-nigh its worst 

That much is wrong with man and wife. 
But hope the better : the sun hath burst, 

Ere now, from clouds to sweeten life 
And free from mould and gnawing rust. 

Translate the Legend : the time is meet, 
Givjws weary of the praise of lust 

And wandering fires ; and longs for seat 
Once more beside enduring glow 

Of purer hearth and home. Now pray 
Fermit me," said he rising, — " no," 

When I would him longer stay, 
11 With thanks, no, ye repute me old, 

And so must I pass on my way. 
Being old, I hear the compline toll'd, 

Being old, pass on to end my day." 
And passed he on so quietly, 

That scarce I missed his going out. 

For left alone, it seemed to me 

His voice still stayed with me and wrought 

d2 



52 THE PROLOGUE. 

In converse ; blending yet its tones 

With mine own musing as before 
The fire I sat, and with the moans 

Of winter's wind that, as night wore 
Past twilight, thro' the casement sighed 

And whisper' d of the coming strife 
Of storm and darkness. Nor belied 

The wind its tidings : for soon rife 
Was night with storm, and rose the fray 

Crescend to full diapason or fell 
Shaking, trembling, to die away, 

As mighty organ-volumed swell. 
And anon the chimney in assonance 

Was resonant with the storm- chords 
And from a smouldering quiet, as dance 

Imprison'd flames in tubes to words 
Or notes of song, the fire would leap 

With upward spring, and flare 
With sudden light, and shadows heap 

On wall, and shapes, that in the glare 



THE PROLOGUE. 53 

Pass'd soon to shades dissolved in turn, 

As were the visions seen in glow 
Of coals. And musing thus, in turn 

Myself would seem, in thought, fco know 
Myself as though I were, yet seem 

To be not, save as might be merged 
My being in the All in dream 

Of reverie. And sounds, as surged 
Or fell the storm, around the room. 

Were mingled with my reverie, 
And a great music as the gloom 

And night shook with the harmony 
Of spheral chords all bright with light 

And grand with majesty, and sweet 
With faith and trust in love and might 

Of the All-Father, from th' All with heat 
And light working His works and singing 

To Him a hymn of being and praise. 
Also, 'twas as though the wind came bringing 

Out from the night, as from days 



54 THE PROLOGUE. 

Long past, yet present, voices speaking 

Thro' window, as of human joys 
And sorrows ; and of trials reeking 

With sweat of struggle ; of base alloys, 
Yet of pure gold in human life : 

Household voices of hearth and home, 
Of homely ways, of man and wife, 

And voices of gleeful children ; of groom 
And maid that serve the hearth. 

Nor did quaint humour want a voice, 
Nor even homely flippant ninth, 

Chattering, as homestead birds rejoice. 

And ever and anon came still 
The voice of mine ancient friend 

Telling his Legend : came still 
Ever and anon unto the end. 



AT HOME. 



THE LEGEND. 



THE DWABF. 

i. 

Three merrier days in merry Carleile 
Saw never Arthur's court, the while 
For festival in month of May, 
When king and Table Round would stay 
For rest of careless joyance there 
In merrie Carleile, with ladies fair : 
Careless, all, ladie and knight ; 
Careless, save of joust, and might 
h\ tourney shown with splintered lance, 
Or conquest gained, in hall, thro' glance 
Of amorous loose, gay dalliance : 



58 THE LEGEND. 

Careless, all, of name or fame ; 
Careless all, both knight and dame ; 
Thoughtless, all, on God, or saint : 
The Sanct Dubrece made sore complaint. 

ii. 
Who, holy man, archbishop, he 
Sometime of rich Carleon's see, 
Would crozier yield, and a hermit be. 
And he it was who sang, I ween, 
The sacred service when the queen, 
His second queen, king Arthur wed, 
Meeting her, to altar led, 
Crowned and robed right royally ; 
Attended there most loyally ; 
By five fair other royal dames, 
(Of Arthur's escort-kings the wives, 
In precedence, had they, then names), 
They dames all fair, of fairest lives, 
Each bearing in hand a snow-white dove, 



THE LEGEND. 59 

Nor ever any light of love, 
As never in his first queen's reign, 
Known then in Arthur's court ; nor bane 
From scandal's fang ; nor could there be, 
With men all brave, and women free 
From all reproach : and all men knew, 
Knew Arthur's court the purest, best, 
In Christendom — all brave, all true, 
Yet in Caerleon might not rest 
The Sanct Dubrece ; archbishop, he 
His see would yield, and a hermit be. 

in. 
For he bethought him of the feast, 
How toiled for pleasure man and bea>t. 
So long before by night and day, 
To make a three days feast : how they 
Began provision long before, 
As if might last for evermore, 
A three days feast : then much more wise, 



60 



THE LEGEND. 

Thought he, than perishing greed to prize 

To seek eternal joys to gain 

In heaven — thro' prayer, and fast, and pain, 

And so, the Sanct Dubrece his see 

And crozier would leave ; would hermit be 

And dwell in cell, in a lone countree. 

IV. 

The years they came, the years they went 
And Sanct Dubrece, beyond Caergwent, 
In prayer and miracle, there still dwelt ; 
Him, fast and scourge, full well he delt, 
His life, thro' zeal, now well-nigh spent. 
And Guinever the Fair, the good, 
Entombed near Glastonbury Eood, 
Was 'tween two pyramids interred ; 
Where Arthur, dead, with her shall be ; 
And in her place, another stood 
As Arthur's queen. And she, the third, 
Was also Guinever — ay me, 



THE LEGEND. 61 

Disdainful, fairest, falsest, she — 
Beautiful in frailtie. 

v. 

And thro' the land was cried aloud 
The siii of Guinever the Proud, 
With Lancelot, the king's best knight, 
With Arthur's chiefest friend. And light 
Of baleful beauty shot out sin 
And all the land was filled with sm 
Thro' her : and bruit thereof struck knell 
Of woe on Sanct Dubrece his cell, 
And tolled a dirge in scorn and shame : 
For careless were all of name or fame ; 
Careless, all, both knight and dame ; 
Thoughtless, all, on God or saint : 
And Sanct Dubrece made sore complaint. 

VI. 

And fasted he, the more and more, 
And prayed he, then all the more, 



62 THE LEGEND. 

And scourged him for evermore, 
For sins not his, the holy man, 
That so might he with heaven prevail, 
And turn away the wrath and ban, 
Of heaven and holy saints, from frail 
And sinful flesh. To Our Lady mild, 
And to fair Christ our Lord, her child, 
The Sanct Dubrece in sore distress 
Made sore complaint, and did confess 
For sins not his, to make redress. 

VII. 

But he this mercie only gained, 
Of heavenly dole for him so pained, 
That could, sans doubt, one pair be found 
Of Arthur's court and Table Bound, 
One only pah- therein be found, 
Doughty knight with ladie fair, 
True knight, and ladie chaste as fair, — 
That, then, should stay the day of doom, 



THE LEGEND. 63 

From Arthur's court and Table Eound 

And all the land ; until fair room 

Of penitence had they, a space : 

And this the Sanct obtained, thro' grace, 

As boon from heaven in ruth for this, 

His prayer and penance for sins not his. 



VIII. 



And that might he be certain made, 
(Too hard should else such knowledge be), 
Was power given the Sanct, in aid 
Of doubtful search, unseen, unbade, 
To stand in midst of all around, 
Until he willed then* eyes unbound, 
As if by conscience loosed to see, 
A dwarf misshapen ; to make them dree 
The sting of conscience, yet not know 
This blessing, from Sanct Dubrece, to flow. 



64 THE LEGEND. 

IX. 

He, holy man, of humble mind, 
Would only to heaven his good deeds show- 
But them would help their sins to find, 
Thro' spell of sacred magic gifts, 
Which — like as conscience bares the soul, 
With probing touch explores the whole, 
And secret sin to judgment lifts — 
Might test in Arthur's court the fame 
Of careless knight, of careless dame, 
And do away their sin thro' shame 
And grief of unfeigned penitence 
For evil wrought thro' carnal sense. 

x. 
Three merrier days in merrie Carleile 
Saw never Arthur's court the while 
That Guinever the third, his queen, 
And court of dames the fairest seen, 



THE LEGEND. 65 

Kept festival in flowering May, 
When king and Table Bound would stay, 
For rest of careless joyance there, 
In merrie Caiieile with ladies fair. 

XI. 

The third May day, the Beltine fires — 
Fit token of evil that Baal inspires 
In heart consumed with its own desires, 
Still smouldered on with ash-quenched brand: 
The third day, played, were still all games — 
The forelost battle, fought flowers in hand, 
Of winter to summer, by youthful band ; 
At landmarks, flogged to mark the site, 
Breeched urchins writhed in useful despite ; 
Thro' church-roof dropped, wood-devil was beat. 
The fleshly devil not thus they treat, 
But only seek the devil to cheat : 
And Sanct Dubrece heard devilrie, 
From court to hamlet in revelrie. 



THE LEGEND. 



XII. 



To the third day feast, Sir Quex* did call 
The court to gather in the great hall ; 
Small reverence had he, for an} 7 and all 
At banquet hour, this seneschall : 
So king and court left off their maying, 
Uncaring to vex Sir Quex, delaying, 
His ordinal of feast ; and all 
The court was gathered in hall, 
And stand in groups therein around, 
Till Prelude of the Salt should sound ; — 
There, Yvain, — Eric, — Caravis, — 
Cliges, — the handsome unknown, Coedis, — 
Lancelot, the mightiest knight, 
Whose sin with Guinever brought blight 
Upon the land and Table Eound. — 
Sir Jaufre, Sir Cologranant, Sir Kay, 

* Sir Quex in Armorica, Sir Kay in Britain. 



m^^^~ » | j w*9 



THE LEGEND. 67 

Sir Gawain stronger to fight than pray ; 
There, all his knights the king surround, — 
All but few : all gathered there, 
In his great hall, with ladies fair. 

XIII. 

When, in their midst, they know not how, 
A Dwarf is seen, where none ere now 
Saw aught but empty space. And stilled, 
Is all their converse gay, thro' dread : 
As if some power unknown had willed 
Their eyes to see one from the dead, 
As if a conscience, there they saw, 
A dwarf misshapen : come to draw 
Their sins to trial before its law. 

XIV. 

A Dwarf, in sooth, misshapen he : 

Uncouth, unkempt, him would they flee, 

But may not from his gaze escape : 

Each feels his every sin unsafe 

E 2 



68 THE LEGEND. 

Before that searching eye. In sooth, 

Was he misshapen dwarf ; nor ruth 

Was any in his austere mien : 

So unwelcome guest was never seen. 

Of wrinkled hardness, all his face, 

Is seamed with sore-red fissures deep ; 

His eyelids, swollen as with long sleep, 

Wallow, swine in bushy lair ; 

An inky flood, his unkempt hair ; 

His shoulders drooped, his spine an hump, 

His back doth bear a grievous lump; 

His trembling hands do pick at mote, 

Or clutch at stains en ragged coate, — 

For ragged his coate, with many a stain, 

As of one long among potsherds lain ; 

A Dwarf, in sooth, misshapen he, 

Uncouth, unkempt, unwishen to see 

At court : so would they flee this shape, 

But may not from its gaze escape, 



— 



THE LEGEND. 69 

XV. 

For that grim Dwarf had an eye of fire 
Which burned thro' mail or any attire 
That cloaked a sin ; and fiercer flamed 
Thereafter, or to duller tamed, 
As might be they on whom it turned, 
As testing thus what sort it burned — 
And turned on Lancelot, the knight 
Became as one who, wrestling, might 
Gone mad with violent remorse, 
Seek heaven to take by stormy force — 
Berserker in repentance, he ; 
And fiercely blazed the Dwarfs eye then. 
Next on the queen it fell, and she 
Became as one who might from ken 
Of world — sore stricken with soul blame, 
From her high place of pride, in shame 
Might grovel low at Arthur's feet, 
Her fair hair loosed, at Arthur's feet, 



70 THE LEGEND. 

Clasped by her fair hands ;* as is meet, 

When come the doom her sin had earned ; 

But still, in all humility 

Laid low, might she an abbess be : 

But now the Dwarf's eye radiant burned, 

And shot out blaze of baleful beautie, 

Eadiant blaze of baleful beautie, 

Haught with pride : — so, fiercely flamed, 

Or sank, to sullen dulness tamed, 

As might be on whom the Dwarfs eye turned, 

As testing thus what sort it burned. 

XVI. 

Not there was Enid : she, I trow, 
Proud young mother, had gone to show 
At Iniol's castle, her young Geraint — 
From sparrow-hawk there now no constraint— 
As pledged her mother by Prince Geraint, 
When he to court would Enid bear, 

* Guinever: Tennyson. 



THE LEGEND. 71 

In her faded silk she erst did wear : 

Not in the great hall was Enid that day, 

Else had the Dwarfs eye beamed with ray 

All tender, firm, and pure. Not there, 

Sir Galahad : he gone was where 

He seemed, past burning bridges* afar, 

To Percivale, a silver star : 

Else had the Dwarfs Eye surely dazed 

All beholding, through sheen that blazed 

With diamond royalties of crown 

That one should crown him with afar. 

Nor was Percivale at court that day ; 

And others a few were still away : — 

But, when the Dwarf eyed Gawain, — down, 

Down to earth, slantwise with frown, 

The Dwarfs eye, lurid flashing first, 

Sunk paled, to earth ; as when the burst 

Of shooting star athwart the sky 

Pales aslant to fall and die, 

* Holy Grail. 



72 THE LEGEND. 

In earth air, quenched; and the knight, 

Sir Gawain, became as one who might, 

For doom, his soul, as if wandering star, 

Well know, — wandering near and far, 

That ever to earth seeks to repair, 

To quench in nothingness of air 

Its luridness fresh-lit from Tophet. 

To Gawain, the Dwarf is judge and prophet, — 

And to all the rest, I ween — 

This uncouth Dwarf, with gaze so keen : 

This unkempt Dwarf with the eye of fire, 

Which burned thro' mail, or any attire, 

That cloaked a sin. And all do chafe : 

Each feels his every sin unsafe : 

But of his kingly mind to know this thing, 

With kingly calm, then quoth the king: — 



THE LEGEND. 73 

XVII. 

" Sir Dwarf, Sir Dwarf! speak, — whence art 
thou ? 
Surely, not here, wert thou ere now/' 
11 Lord Arthur, wherefromever I be, 
Know, surely, stand I here with ye ; 
And wherefore come, shall soon all see." 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 

PART I. 



AT HOME. 

i. 
December's evening air, with frosty cold, 
Was freshening fast. The evening sun, grown old 
With the waning year, yet hale and ruddy, sent 
His beams to hang the golden shields, whose glint 
From mullion'd windows of a house — of stone, 
Grey, ivy-clad — gave token then that One 
A watch had set o'er those who therein dwelt. 
Against the darkness creeping through the gloaming ; 
Until the orient Sun, refreslrd from roaming 
Throughout the Blessed Isles, again should melt 



78 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

The morning mists. The cheerful, married blaze 
Of vestal hearths with houselights, streamed a haze 
In warmer tints upon the bluish damps 
Of evening; and the rnany- colour' d lamps, 
That buoyed out the winding carriage way, 
From lodge and open gate to ivied porch, 
Sinned out a light — for Silver Wedding torch — 
Of hospitable welcome on a lingering day, 
Whose winter Sun shone on a Silver Wedding 
Of time-tried lovers : their roof-tree, this peaceful 
steading, 

ii. 

The North-west Wind swept clear the avenue; 
The North-west Wind the road begins to strew 
With leaves of oak and chestnut, brown in hue; 
Leaves, in the hollows, garner'd by the Wind, 
The Wind uncovers now from thatch of snow, 
And leaves, few leaves, still waiting left behind. 
From sapless trees the Wind — not all unkind 
The North-west Wind that now begins to blow — 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 79 

Now culls to join again : as if to show 

A chastened warp and woof of life, laid down 

To carpet the way, when friends the wedding crown. 

The Sun gone down, and the silver starlights hung, 

High twinkling, from blue-frescoed depths of heaven, 

Upon this Silver Wedding of a pair who clung 

Thro 1 life, God join'd, with love that naught had riven, 

Nor man, nor clash of will, nor disaster's leaven. 

in. 

Their home, this dwelling rear'd of massy stone 
Built honestly : of stone whose quarried blue 
Time's touch had soften'd down to grey — of tone 
Mellowed into exceeding richness, thro' the hue 
Of russet iron-mould, reliev'd with myriad scales 
Of glist'ning mica, — when the Summer Sun, 
Wearied with brassy skies and a hot day's run, 
At evening seeks to bathe his glowing rays 
Where the ivy's cool and w T hiding green embays, 
In eddying course among the sloping vales 



80 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Of roofs steep-gabled, and mountainous with slate; 
Or drowns the porch, or round the oriel high, 
In leafy streamlet flows. Nor Autumn late, 
Nor harsh Winter, the chasten'd charm abate : 
Autumn — steel-graving lines in sober phase 
Varied of silver-grey ; those shades — and siph — 
Of still, grey harmony of th' Unreal loonVd 
With Eeal, upon the landscape broadly gloonVd, 
Yet clear-cut in scene, aglow with red-leaf blaze, 
Very present, actual, visible, but all shut out 
From work- day world, from daily work- day rout. 
And shading dreamily — dreamily — into haze, 
And background ever deepening in the maze, 
Toward Eternity — yet faith the maze 
Shall pierce, and thro' clear depths of heaven know 
That, still, beyond, dw T ells God.* And when the hand 
Of winter, cramp 'd with cold, engraves the land 
With icy lines and slanting strokes of snow, — 
Falling noiseless, as tho' the earth to show, 

* Sermon of the Bishop of Lincoln. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 81 

Mantled, — with gentle ruth, relenting care, 
Against too harsh, deep etching film'd : when blare 
And blast of mad Storm, who seeks the earth to bare, 
Is heard ; or heard, his sighings as he dreams 
Of toying, — oh with summer leaves long dead, — 
And sleeps in tears, before still midnight gleams 
With moonlight sparkling on the frozen snow : 
When silent, busy Frost, with crunching tread, 
Upon the crusting snow goes to and fro, 
And maketh up, against the coining beams 
Of morrow's Sun, the Lord's earth-jewels, then — 
Full ! Lord ! is earth of thy glory then ! 
Ah, then, from rising of that glorious sun. 
Even to the going down in evening dun, — 
And drear to Eobin, who his ruddy breast 
Against the window shows, and makes his quest 
With fearless pecking, for snowbirds largess bidding 
As for himself ; aye, then, each day- -yea, night 
And day — the soul of him, who the right 
Of master over that grey house and steading, 



82 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Doth bless his Gocl for pleasant lines, to him 
And his, in pleasant places, fallen : to brim 
Are fill'd his barns and store with plenty ; full 
His heart ; and of his substance, he the poor 
Gives large remembrance : beginning at his door 
With Robin and hungry snowbirds : well he knows, — 
Ah, Coleridge, may I ? — 

• He prayeth best who loveth best 
All things both great and small ; 
For the dear (rod who loveth Of, 
He made and loveth all." 

But, never, thankfulness, before, his heart. 
With richer tribute fill'd, than when, this day, — 
His Silver Wedding-day — he sat apart. 
Alone. 

IV. 

Alone : although the library shows tli' array 
Of companionable walls, book-built; with cunning 
art 



THK SILVER WKOOIV 88 

In alcoves entrant and re-entrant, bastion'd: 
Unparley'd : by broom of housemaid, only, quee- 

tion'd ; 
And warder d by the book-spirits. But these, 
Even these, the silent mi] Gaithful true, 

Of quiet dear to (host who love them, nor tee*. 
Nor heeds he, DOW : but drawn within, with view 
All introspective, and perot ption dull 
To outer touch hi nil, 

From memory's gard 

Or opened), flowers <>i thought in beauty blooi. 
Fruits luscious with happin< »me con- 

sumed 
With sorrow's oanker ; aj mocked 

With premature decay, and ra 

From stem left ban- and cruel with wounding thorn 
Of sharp affliction. Thus, al 
The master of Qraystead aa< : nor disconi 
Nor jealousy, the gentle book-spirit- I 
At his unwont neglect, but round him wh( 



84 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

In loving, silent guardianship, content 
To serve in watchful quiet : as a recluse 
Is oft, by angels watched in lonely cell, 
Who reckons up his life, and tells his beads 
In prayer, on mount afar from sound of bell, 
And chant of singing monks, or voice that reads 
The Golden Legend of saintly acts. 



II. 
THE LIBRARY AND LARDER. 



THE LEGEND. 
II. 



THE BOAR'S HEAD AND KNIFE. 

i. 
Outspake Sir Quex : * " The feast cloth wait "- 
As rigid his, as rules of fate ; 
Small reverence had he for any and all, 
At banquet hour, this seneschal — 
41 The feast doth wait, doth lose its zest 
When stayed by an unwelcome guest." 

ii. 

Then Arthur : " Quex ! — again ? — how long 
Shalt thou my patience do such wrong, 

* Quex in Armoriea, Kave in Britain. 



88 THE LEGEND. 

And blurr our motto with thy cark ? 

' Spread be my board* — to our motto hark — 

As horizon, round ; and ample be, 

As heart, its hospitalitie ; 

So all, nor first nor last, shall share it, 

But equal all with equal merit.'* 

Once more, Sir Quex, I bid thee hark, 

And now, with reverence due, to mark, 

The motto of our Table Bound. 

Bid prelude of the salt now sound, — 

For merit enough this strange Dwarf hath 

To make — save thee — all dread his scath." 

" God speed thee, King Arthur ! and with the 

queen. 
Thy fair queen Guinever, be seen 
God's favour; — grant, I pray, me grace 
To speak but three words, face to face. 
With this thy seneschal," said then 
The Dwarf. Quoth Arthur : " Speak thy will I " 

* The motto of the Bound Table. 



THE LEGEND. 89 



The Dwarf then made Sir Quex to ken 
Three words, spoken hard and shrill : — 
" Behold thy feast ! " And yellow light, 
As if of molten metals bright. 
The Dwarfs eye shone ; and then became 
Sir Quex as one who stood in shame, 
And w T as as tho' he saw the feast, 
Thro' false purveyance, false, and least 
For vouchered cost : all false the plate, 
With baser metal and light weight, 
False weight and measure, tho' outside fine ; 
False the viands, false the wine ; 
Falser when bought, tho' false in selling : 
Thus on all the sin was telling, 
Of Guinever, the proud, false fair ; 
All, inside false, and outside fair : 
And Quex, once honest, got sharp pain, 
At Mammon's hands, thro' lust of gain. 



90 



THE LEGEND 



IV. 

And then, strange deed in sooth was wrought, 
The Dwarfs eye burned the feast to naught. 
Quoth Arthur, seeing Quex did chafe, — 
" I know not if even my crown be safe. 
But, Quex, thy feast hath molten down, 
And now all dinnerless are we, 
Whatever may betide our crown."' 
But said the Dwarf: " That may not be.' ? 



And now was heard a nearing sound 
Of hunter's horn and baying hound ; 
And into hall, with panting roar, 
Eushed in a bristling, tusked boar. 
Sans fear, the Dwarf him caught to kill ; 
And just as the boar lay stark and still, 
Bode into the great hall, — a goodly sight ! — 
Sir Cradocke the Strong Arm'd, the Battle 
Knight, 



THE LEGEND. 91 

Of the Three Battle Knights, was he ; 
And with him rode his fair ladie. 

VI. 

" Pardon ! Sir Arthur, my lord and king, 
Not I would so unseemly thing, 
As fill your great and royal hall 
With baying hounds and huntsman's call, — 
Not of mine own will, free and clear ; 
But power unknown hath forced me here, 
With boar and hounds, and my ladie dear 
With me ; else, so unseemely, 
Hadst thou seen them not, nor me." 
14 Pardon," quoth Arthur, " have I none, 
For him who ill hath never done." 

VII. 

Then drew the Dwarf a knife so keen, 
That one blow severed the Boar's Head 
clean. 



92 THE LEGEND. 

And none knew how, yet placed on dish, 

Was the Boar's Head cooked as mouth could wish ; 

And filled the hall with so savourie smell. 

Never such hunger the court befel. 

Then said Sir Cradocke : kk My dear, dear dame, 

Such savour from thy kitchen cam* 

When last we slew a boar." kk And now.'" 

The Dwarf said, M only he, I trow. 

Can carve this Boar's Bead, he the strong, 

Whose dame hath never done him wron 

Mil. 

Sore dismayed, there, many a knight : 
It seemed as if none carve it might ; 
Some hid their knives, afl tho" they'd nom. 
Ay me ! it seemed much wrong were done. 
Then quoth the king : "H any here 
May carve this Boar's Head without fear, 
'Tis thou, Sir Cradocke, our strong-soul km_ 
May'st carve it true in tins Dwarfs sight. 



THE LEGEND. 93 



IX. 

The Dwarf then i ^cke looked : 

And the knight believes the Boar's Bead cooked 
hi kitchen of his own dear dame. 
The Dwarf n the ladie look 

a her lot me, 

bi 1 rifled : 

:• youth, 

Ai d beautie of I well tri 

And all the beantfa of her truth, 

And all • on] 

That brOQghl ithless to this goal, 

An<l all the 

Uproee thro' form and fa 

And spreads from earth * . a bloom 

of the life al>ow the evening's gloom, 
Blushing thro 1 I m, 

And the boo! with roee-red balm. 



94 THE LEGEND. 



In beautie of wife and womanhood, 
Sir Cradocke's ladie before all stood ; 
And well, I ween, Sir Cradocke will, 
Ever thus behold her, still — 
(Nor ever time, his sight shall dull) 
For ever young and beautiful. 

XI. 

Then to the dame, that bright, keen knife, 
The Dwarf did give. " How now, fair wife !- 
Mine own good knife, is truly, this ; 
With this, their laughter, nor their hiss, 
Nor any failure, now I dread ! " — 
Quoth Sir Cradocke. And Boar's Head, 
He carved all true, with his own good knife 
The Dwarf did give him, by his wife. 
The king, this knight and dame, doth greet : 
And cried the Dwarf — " Fall to and eat, 



THE LEGEND. 95 

Ye good, ye evil ! — as, by God's Eood, 
God's rain cometh on evil and good ! " 

xn. 

And now they know, that in God's name, 
Had come this Dwarf to do them shame, 
For shameful sin ; or honour bring, 
On knight or dame who feel no sting 
Of evil conscience, misshapen thing. 
And none have fear to eat this food — 
This Dwarf hath spoken " by God's Eood." 
An hungered were they all to eat ; 
But some eat, only palate to cheat. 
And all did marvel much to see 
Such as each craved, such food got he ; 
And with true weight of silver and gold, 
With cup and flagon, may not be told 
How groaned the board. But Quex gave 

groans 
For sins that nevermore get loans. 



96 THE LEGEND. 

XIII. 

But said the king : " Faith of my life ! — 
As hath Sir Cradocke, our doughty knight, 
I would that each had such a wife : 
And ne should quail our court at sight, 
Of uncarved Boar's Head and a Knife." 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 

PART II. 



LIBRARY AND LARDER. 

i. 

The day its frozen hours adown had rolled, 
From rugged morn to melt on forenoon soft, 
And slippery, and rutted deep with thawing mud : 
The drip from eaves, from trees, from fences, told 
The time, by water- clocks a thousand fold 
Attesting, drop by drop, that long the scud 
Of morning clouds had fled from sun aloft 
Now gone to warm the earth ; and anon, anon, 
And yet anon, a falling icicle, on 
The porch step dash'd, with diamond clappers rang 



98 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

The passing hour of noon, to forenoon verg'd ; 

But not the shortening shadows far had verg'd 

Toward the zenith, to fall from brink of noon ; 

When Bran Cradocke his library enter'd and sang 

Joyously : entering joyously : joyously the boon 

Remembering on his Silver- Wedding morn, 

Given his youth — a prayer and grant, in one 

Good gift from God — the boon of a dear, good wife, 

The wife of his youth, and thro' his lengthening life, 

The credenced idol of his heart, alone 

Enshrined there, and none other : and the worn, 

Frayed heart-strings, fretted long by fitful time 

In varying moods of joy, or grief, once more, 

In playful reminiscence, stirred a tone 

All resonant, with ardour, and the love-lore 

And cheerily, hopefully sad and tender rhyme 

Of a young man's song, exuberantly glad with fond 

And longing, happy dismahiess — a frond 

Of song : — 



the silver wedding. 99 

Chanson Amoureuse de la Jeunes^e. 

i. 
queen, my homage bring I thee, 

But dread thy royalty ; 
Ah, deign to touch the hand thy slave 
Holds up in loyalty ; 

My life I craw, 
queen, from tine, 
Ever thy slave : 
queen, my queen ! thy vassal 6 
Who dares thy royalty. 

ii. 

My hie ! — there were for me no life, 

No light, wert thou, not, darling, mine 

For thee my heart and veins are rife 

With bounding blood all thine 

For thee this strife. 

For thee I pine, 

For thee I live : 

g *2 



100 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

My queen ! — I pray, ah, bid me live, 
And twine thy life with mine. 



in. 

No light ! — thine eyes are all my light : 

In shade my heart congeals, 
My soul despair enshrouds with night, 
When love its glance conceals. 
Starlight-bright ! 
I'll kiss thine eyes, 
I'll quaff their light, 
queen ! — and heart and soul delight 
Now love its glance reveals. 



IV. 

My love ! — oh, sweetest, best, my love ! 

dear control — but free 
Thro' love and pardon ! Say this, Love, 

This sweetest melodv — 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 101 

" I am thine, my Love," 
Ah, be thou mine, 
My doubts remove, 
Oh queen, my life, my light, — my Love ! 
My soul's whole melody ! 

— : this rote 
Of love, Bran Cradocke sang : and singing smiled 
With humorous self-irony, and satire mild 
And kindly mocking, at the gushing note 
Of youth, now thunderd in the mighty basfl 
And deep-chested voice rolled out from massive 

throat, 
Of portly hioijen «<je advanced to }; 
And ent 'ring defile between the white-capp'd hills, 
But strong and lusty yet as the hillside oak 
Whose gnarled and knotty muscles, wrestling, broke 
The storm-king's force — tho' now, decay the rills 
Of life begin to choke, shall, long, his feet 
Firm-planted still, dug thro' the slippery sleet, 



102 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Hold vantage ground upon the snow-capped hills, 
Against the wintry blast. 

ii. 

Thus hale and strong, 
Bran Cradocke was. And humorously the song, 
Youth's ritornelT he sang ; for may en age 
Deals flippantly with sentiment — knowing rage 
Of passion sunk to calmer tides that fill 
The holy life-harbours, with currents still 
But eddying happily about the moorings cast 
For anchorage safe and sure — the Doldrums past. 
And through his house, resounding went that song, 
Absorb'd, its youthful tenor, in the bass 
Of lordly old- oak manhood : all along 
The huge-chinmey'd, antler'd, pictured, wainscot hall, 
Echo'd that voice : from library to inner reoea 
Of household penetralia : even pass'd thro' wall 
Of larder, — as knewthe singer, and meant, it should — 
Where sat his matron- wife, in conference deep 



THE SILVEK WEDDING. 108 

With comfortable housekeeper ; intent herself to keep 

A watchful oversight ; of B truth she would 

That naught might lack of hospitality. 

Or shame housewifery, on this great day of state, 

Her Silver- Wedding Day, that most should crown 

Her finish'd wifehood with reality 

Of honour well deserved : and BO, the brown 

Of roast ; of the done or underdone, — relate 

This, all ! who can t — or of done too much ; of just 

The right proportion due of pound, or cup, 

Or spoon; or, of the much caution lest the crust 

(Upper and under), right tint should fail to bake, 

Or niartyrd be, with partial lit at burnt up, 

Or scorch'd, one Bide, too much: all this and more, 

Did anxiously the matron wife enfbn 

On buxom housekeeper; nor fail'd to charge 

This last — "And Meadows don't forget the doves, 

And teal with olives ? ' ' — Otrine auspicious ! — ' ■ he loves 

Them well — as do all gentlemen." Thus the life, 

The light, the queen and, first and last, the love 



*™ 



104 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Of Bran's enamour'd song of youth (song now 
Great-organ voice'd in hearty age) thought how 
To compass skilful providence ; and prove 
Her housewife care for him should never cease ; 
Thro' very womanhood, impell'd to please 
Her lord, as first: next all his sex. 

in. 

All these 

These inner housewife mysteries, partly known, 
Are rather guessed. For who would dare the frown 
Of queen, in larder throned? — ay me, not you, 
Nor Bran the henpeck'd — Bran, the fearless, he, 
But Bran (as all men are, or ought to be) 
Good, and true, and brave, and henpeck'd, too, — 
Nor he who tells the tale : tho' else, he never knew. 

So comfort reign'd, as all might see, 
Where each held right authority, 
In Library he, in Larder she, 
Within that peaceful home. 



— * 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 105 

And right it is, that she, the roast 

Should rule, who makes home's comfort most: 

And right that he his bonds should boast, 

Nor shall he seek to roam, 
Whose wife, disgrace shall never earn, 
In aught; where ne shall boar's head burn, 
But done, be ever, to a turn : 

And he may carve it ever 

Where she, his own true wife, 

Makes these her own endeavour, — 
The Boar's Head and the Knife. 



III. 



TERAPHIM. 



■!■ ■-' 



THE LEGEND. 
III. 



THE MAGIC MANTLE. 

i. 
Now sated are most, with this strange feast 
Of fish, or fowl, or fatted beast, 
Or sparkling wine, as each doth feel 
Desire, or thirst. Nor such a meal, 
Had they now for long time, made; 
And many, for thanks, a bead have said, 
(May all, pray we, as this they read). 
When to further test their meed, 
The Dwarf his hand in coate did reach 
And spake, — " There is other yet to teach." 



110 THE LEGEND. 



II. 

Then forth, from next his heart, he drew 
A robe to their admiring view ; 
A costly mantle, and bade them see 
Its preciousness and great beau tie. 
Its value rare, beyond all price 
Of rubies or gems that do entice 
The longing eyes of dames : each fold, 
A wave of loveliness untold ; 
Bedight with charming grace, its shape 
Might seem yet comelier, to drape 
A fair and comlie form ; of bright 
And richest samite, purest white 
Its inner stuff, but outer wove 
In deepest royal tint of love 
To softest velvet, hearts-ease ianct, 
In earnest that, must thus be link't, 
With beautie, chastity ; all liid, 
The inner samite, save where tin id 



THE LEGEND. Ill 

A pure white border round the verge 
With silver sheen soon seen to merge, 
All mixtilined with broidered gold, 
In one deep hearts-ease-purple, rolled : 

in. 

Like as when, toward eventide, 
The western BUS ifl Been to hide 
1 '»< hind a pall of purple cloud, 
That floats alone from distant crowd 
of low banked vapours, in mellow light, 
With silver edge blent, yellow-bright, 
On royal purple. Not of dawn 
On glimmering limit far withdrawn 
Hath God now made Himself a rose, 
An awful rose,* for doubtful hope. 
For since the dawn, the sun uprose 
To answer the voice upon the slope, 
With beams reverberant. And long 

* Tennyson. " The Vision of Sin." 



112 THE LEGEND. 

The day wends toward the evensong, 
To sing Magnificat for sure 
And living hope, voiced virgin-pure : 
And God hath set in the evening sky 
An heartsease royal with purple eye, 
Most glorious, heavenward, of heavenly 

birth, 
Most in beautie toward the earth. 

rv. 

Then bade the Dwarf them all to see 
This mantle wondrous with beautie ; 
Beauteous without and chaste within, 
As virgin pure from taint of sin. 
And bid them mark a single pearl, 
Beyond the ransom of knight or earl, 
A priceless pearl no realm might buy, 
Was set in gold to clasp thereby. 
How wins this pearl on all beholders, 
Clasping mantle on fail* shoulders ! 



THE LEGEND. 113 

V. 

And said the Dwarf: — "God save thee, 
king, 
And thy fair Guinever, the queen, — 
I hither bring this beauteous thing, 
And would the queen might try it on, 
And other dames. It may be won 
By dame who can most comlie wear it : 
But better come none other near it." 

VI. 

This Mantle, of such fashion rare, 
To gain, now hopes each envious fair: 
Most comelie, herself, would each bethought, 
So grievous en vie within each wrought; 
And all draw round the Dwarf, in fear, 
Lest hateful other the robe should wear — 
All save Sir Cradocke's modest dame, 
Who, fain to look, demurred thro' shame. 



114 



THE LEGEND. 



VII. 

"But," — said the Dwarf, — "this Mantle rare, 
Though well shapen, to look on fair, 
Hath one small fault, one curious trait — 
It neither will, a moment, keep 
Its colour, nor shape, in fold or plait, 
Whether, who wears it, wake or sleep, 
On ladie who hath done amiss. 
But, surely, none he here, I wis, — 
How say ye ? — none such dame can be 
Herein this goodlie companie?" 

VIII. 

Then all the knights begin to quake, 
And be in fear for their ladies' sake : 
Yet, if dismayed the ladies be, 
None can tell from what they see. 
But Guinever, the haught and proud, 
Within the Mantle w r ould enshroud 
Her queenlie form; for, in her pride, 
She thought to force the robe to hide 



THE LEGEND. 115 

Her guilt; she seized this Mantle rare 
And threw it over her shoulders bare. 
Ay rae, 'twere better had this queen 
Not tried the Mantle on I ween ! 
Not now the sight wins on beholders 
When the Mantle touched her shoulders. 

IX. 

From top to toe, the Mantle rent, 
As if, by shears sharp cutting, slient; 
One time too long, one while too short, 
It wrinkled, in most unseemely sort 
On Guinevers fair shoulders bare — 
Now barer left than erst 'twas there ; 
Its colour turned, most strange this thing ! 
Now red, now green, then sable hue, 
Which when he saw, thus quoth the king: — 
"Beshrew me, I think thou be'st not true!" 

x. 

At which she threw the Mantle down, 
And the king bespoke, with wrathful frown: — 



116 THE LEGEND. 

"I had rather beneath the greenwood tree, 

In deserts live, than here to be 

The sport, base king, of thy groomes and thee"* — 

And to her chamber new in wrath : 

She may not bide this ruthless scath. 



XI. 

Called, next, Sir Kaye, on his own dame: — 
"Put on this Mantle, if not to blame; 
But, if guilty, 'twere best thou fear it, 
Bide where thou art, come not thou near it.'' 
How laugh the knights, how titter the dames, 
In mirth to see ; as if in flames 
The Mantle together shrivel and shrink ! 
The ladie cast the Mantle down ; 
Ay me, she too, with the queen must drink 
Her bitter cup ; now, must she slink 
To her room away, with shame faced frown 



* The old ballad as quoted in Mrs. Hall's " Queers before 
ithe Conquest." 



THE LEGEND. 117 

XII. 

Vivien, — Ettarre, — the garment tried, 
Better if they, as babes had died ; 
The Mantle shrunk, as if in dread, 
To a tassel and a thread. 
Another ; and still another, tried ; 
Better for all that all had died : 
As each and other did thus essay, — 
Alack, alack, and well- a -day ! 
The Mantle still ever said them nay : — 
Till Arthur, lest the Table Bound 
And Court should all be proved unsound, 
Cried out — " If any here there be, 
Whose ladie shall be loyal found — 
Sir Cradocke, Sir Cradocke, of the Battle Knights 

Three, 
Sir Cradocke the strong- soul — thou art he ! " 

XIII. 

Sir Cradocke, then to his beauteous dame : — 
" Our greystone tower is held in name 



118 THE LEGEND. 

Of God and Sainctes and Holie Church ; 

I fear no ill can thee besmirch — 

Wear thou this Mantle, in God's name ! " 

XIV. 

And then his ladie, the Mantle, wore : 
'Twas as worn, thus, for aye before, 
When the Dwarf's eye shone, as velvet, soft 
And heartsease tinct on silver. And oft, 
All marvelled that so long before 
They failed to see this Mantle she wore ; 
And how they long had ceased to see 
Its wondrous grace and great beautie. 

xv. 

On her fair form, whom now it draped, 
In decorous folds itself it shaped, 
As any ladie could wish to see ; 
Hung never Mantle so gracefullie, 
Nor colour changed, nor long, nor short, 
It robed her in most seemelie sort : 



THE LEGEND. 

And all the beautie of her youth, 

And all the beautie of her truth, 

And all the beautie of her soul 

That brought her, scathless, to this goal; 

And all the beautie of her love , 

In wedlock ordained in heaven above, 

Uprose and blushed thro' form and face 

As the Dwarf turned on her eye of grace ; 

And she became, her faith now tried, 

In beautie as of the glorified ; 

Her eyes, with tint still deeper, shone 

Harmonious with the Mantle's tone ; 

Her smile gave back the pearl its light — 

The precious pearl, so tender bright, 

That clasped, on bosom pure as fair, 

The wondrous Magic Mantle rare : 

And thus arrayed, — fair to see ! 

more than fair, such great beautie ! — 

In royal purple heartsease tinct 

And gold- welt on lustre silverie, 



119 



m 



120 THE LEGEND. 

As chastity, with beautie, linkt, 
She stands — in halo softlie spread 
As nimbus round her form and head. 



XVI. 

Oh well I ween, in his evening sky, 
Sir Cradocke an heartsease shall descry ; 
And sing Magnificat for evensong, 
And pray to Mary mother mild, 
And to fair Christ our Lord, her child ; 
For God hath set in the evening sky 
An heartsease royal with purple eye, 
Most glorious, heavenward, of heavenlie birth, 
Most in beautie towards the earth. 



XVII. 

But Guinever the queen hath reign — 
Ay me, that such should ever reign ! — 
In Arthur's court ; and would outface 
The Dwarf to lessen her disgrace. 



THE LEGEND. 121 

From her chamber, balconied, 
A window hung ; whence might she heed 
What passed in hall. And when she knew, 
Therefrom, Sir Cradocke's dame proved true ; 
With cries of passionate en vie, she, 
Therefrom, made charge that, wrongfullie, 
Sir Cradocke's dame hath the Mantle won, — 
Though other none the robe may don. 
To Sir Cradocke, then thus the king : — 
11 By nail in rood and wound in hand ! 
Thro' all the land the fame shall ring, 
That truest queen, in all the land, 
Is faithful and true, as beauteous, dame ! — 
She earns the Mantle, who earns no blame ; 
Let others wear, as earned, their shame ! " 

XVIII. 

And then the Dwarf rebuked the queen, 
Most unlovely, now, his mien ; 
With sin, and shame, and envious pride, 
His eye grew bold, yet sought to hide. 



122 THE LEGEND. 

He freely told King Arthur, there, 
That, chastened, should be Guinever. 
More sharply still, he said the same 
When he rebuked this erring dame ; 
And told her plainly that now must she 
Her pride allay, more lowlie be : 
Too bold her carriage, too bold her ways, 
Too free her speech, too tight her stays, 
Her dress as wanton as her dance, 
Too fond of loose, gay dalliance ; 
Too easy to look on sights not pure, 
But cannot things holie long endure ; 
Too eager to know things best unknown, 
No dame may tamper with vice full-blown. 
Public blazon, too fain to seek, 
Both soft and hard her beauteous cheek ; 
Abroad in search of constant pleasure, 
This dame keeps not, in home, her treasure ; 
In sooth, not she will darn a stocking, 
And girds to see her cradle rocking — 



THE LEGEND. 123 

44 Beshrew me " — Arthur thus here joined, — 
44 Or fills it with issue baselie coined ! " 
44 Yea," quoth the Dwarf, — "not this, true queen — 
The mightie queen of fireside home ! 
Discrowned, disrobed, by me she's seen, 
Sackcloth-girt in the evening gloame." 

XIX. 

44 But thou, king," — the Dwarf then said : 
And Arthur bowed his kinglie head — 
44 Hard, art thou, on this dame thy wife ; 
Look well, Lord Arthur, to thine own life !" 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 

TART III. 



TKRAPHIM.— I. 



i. 
Bran, master «>t" Qraystead was ■ but Helen ruled 

As mistress yes. In all authority 

Objective, Bran supreme, revcr'd ; but she, 
His Helen, queen still reign'd, a sovran queen 
In subjectivity supreme, as well. 
Nay, unknown supremest Helen rul'd, 
Thro' will obedient, pliant, flexible, 
That ever had its way : as ever seen 
This is, of proper womanhood reserv'd, 
With woman's sacred fraud, to act as might, 



126 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 



(Of conscience void she) to her, seem right, 
Or for the best: as Eve the mother. *And know 
Ye all — perplext, and scarce your wits preserved, 
To learn from Thales, Berkeley, Hume, or Kant, 
From Fichte, Hegel, Eeid, Descartes, or Comte, 
Or Stewart, Hamilton, Spencer, Mill (distraught 
And doubt-rackt, all all themselves, to know), and 

naught 
Enlightened — know ye all, blind lights as well, 
Not exempted ye, who cannot tell 
Or teach true animism, from being taught — 
Aye, know ye all, this real, true critique 
Of reason pure (der reinen vermin ft), not weak 
Faint glimmerings-out from shut, dark-lantern'd 

Ich 
Or Ego, or Non-Ego, Alter-Ego, or Ding an $ich y 
But clear and steady, sunlight definition : — 
Object- subject is — subject -object ; more, 
Or less commixt ; transposed ; together blent 



* In a humorous sense here. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 127 

Or fused — or divers ; different thro' rendition 

Of much one and the same thing diff'ring, dhTrently — 

Twice negatively, one another indifferently ; 

And objective, with subjective, form the splent 

That, object-subject or subject-object, binds 

In relation adjectively. Thus, the muse, 

Thus clear-eyed Poesy, the spirit-winged, 

Flies thro', or o'er, the labyrinth — the wring'd 

And mazing labyrinth, intricate, all ring'd 

With circling argument, where run son winds 

Thro 1 blundering metaphysics: — straight the muse 

Her flight directs on spirit-wings and finds, 

At once, this central truth that, wide, diffuse, 

Nay all diffuse thro' all create, this rule 

And principle do make the state and being 

Of all create of God : this, clearly seeing, 

Beholding reverently, — that, principle 

Of object -subject is but male-female 

Conditional with relation that the All 

Doth build, in agency reactive, of male, 



128 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Female, create, creative, all to call 
To life or being, inorganic all, 
Or organic : as the Lord of all shall will. 
Then, know ye now the truth the muse unfolds : 
Know sex for object-subject : sex that moulds 
And forms all entity, objectively, 
Subjectively ; conditional, respectively 
Male and female, of God ; unique, diverse, 
To build His work, in all His Universe. 

ii. 

In all His Universe ? Yea, all : the All, 
From unconditional Chaos, stivrd to life 
Or being, out of waste unform'd, to thrall 
Of Jaw ; in widening waves of being mov'd 
By the passing Spirit of God ; for ever moved, 
In endless tides, thro' endless ocean : the All, 
Condition' d with relation ; built thro' strife. 
Yet consonance, of like-unlike or sex 
Self- complement al ; built, and to for ever 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 129 

Biiild, arou id creative will and thought 
Of God : the All, resultant from reflex 
Of like-unlike by law enthrall'd and brought 
To birth, — create, creative, recurring ever : 
The All, the common chord of harmony — 
The whole foundation-chord of harmony, 
Perfect throughout the pealing Bphen veil 

The Maker's prai Thrice worthy, noble, 

holy, 

Thrice holy, with angels and archangels, sung, 

And with all the coinpa: awn BUI 

And with v*»ico tion gone wi in VI, 

Bung 

The hymn of the Ages pealing the death-song of the 

lowly 
The death- song, of the lowly uplift to the nations m 

glory, 
In healing, victory — -It is finished." Sung, 
From sphere to sphere, thro' sphere to sphere, the 

story 



130 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Eesounding thro' the Ages, how the Son, 
Grand God, the mighty King and Lord of Glory, 
Was born of Woman, humbling himself, and on 
Himself the form of a servant wore ; of woman 
Born, a servant made, th' All-Fathers Will 
To work ; the All to save from the All's foeman 
And curse, — from death and sin, and imperfection. 
For the All-Father gave Him All, and still 
Of given should none be lost ; but thro' perfection, 
And for perfection of His Work, He All 
Should have, and keep for ever — ever. Spent, 
Thro' anguish of creation's groaning pent 
Wholly in Him, and faint from loss thro' rent 
And piercing ; spent, all spent, with labour thrice 
Of finishing than of creation, thrice 
His rest ; her God with Nature : then, from pall 
Of clouds all black with death, from clouds all rent 
By holy light, uprose, thro' o'ercast dawn 
Flush'd to ruddy health from His healing wing, 
The Sun of Eighteousness. To death no sting, 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 131 

Nor victory, now, to grave. Full drawn, 

Full diapason now that pealing sing 

The works of God, all working now with hope, 

Of swelling anthem thro' myriad octaves scored, 

In gamut infinite, beyond the scope 

Of earth-dulled ear. Creation chants, restored 

With holier altars ; solemnly with cop , 

As if of God's for sted all 

Her choristers : and the Mighty One. implored 

As Father, Prophet, Priest, and Lord of All, 

Creator, Sanetifier, Saviour- Kin 

In Godhead Triunite, from second dawn 

Of holy light, bows down attentive ear 

In awful, silent majesty to hear, 

Forever pleased to hear or see His Work. 

Ministrant in prayer and praise, and work, 

The swelhng anthem, sweetly, grandly sing, 

'With crescent peal full diapson drawn, 

Bearing His Cross : — 

" Hosanna Sanctus Deus Sabaoth 

i2 



132 the silver wedding. 

superillustrans claritate tua 

Felices ignes horum Malahoth."* 

Christ ! not unto us the glory be, 

But to Father and Holy Ghost with Thee 

Triune, — to Thy Name Jehovah Malahoth ! 

God Triune ! non nobis Domine. 

All-Father ! Thy majestic Word,+ Thy Thought 

Eeveal'd, commanding : and around Thy Thought 

Thy Soul, Thy Holy Spirit, built and wrought 

Thy Deed, the All : Thy Son, before all worlds 

Begotten God of God, working with Thee, 

Coequal wrought in the coequal Three — 

God, Thou Three in One ! From Chaos brought 

Was then Thy Deed, the All, unique, concrete, 

In causation secondary, in quest, eternal 

Of mate to mate : Thy Power supernal 

Us brought, Thy deed the All, by law and mete 

Condition'd with relation, built thro' strife 

* Pante (Paradise : Canto yii. — Carr). f Goethe's Faust. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 133 

Yet consonance of sex, in life-unlife,* 
Self complimental ; built with light and heat, 
We build around creative will and thought 
Of Thee. Elohim ! — created we adore 
Thy Power, beholding its magnificence, 
Adonai Malahoth ; and Thee implore, 
Wielderof the Two Eealmst All- one in Thee, 
And Thou in All ! of Thy beneficence, 
Shaddai ! giver of each perfect gift, 
To whom the hymns of thankfulness we lift, — 
To bless Creation to perfection brought 
Thro' Sacrifice of Thee, and ever wrought 
In sacrifice, in loss and gain, from naught 
Of void unform'd, to glory. Hail, to Thee ! 
All hail ! Father Omnipotent, We praise Thee ! 
Immanuel ! Prophet, Priest, King, We praise Thee ! 
Soul of God, Light and Life- Giver, We praise Thee ! 
Thou Three in One ! Thou One in All ! We praise 
Thee! 

* 1 Cor. ch. xv M v. 36. f Spirit and matter. 



TERAPHDL— II. 



i. 



Lord, not only sendest thou the wind 
To build in lofted heavens the organ clouds 
That jar all earth and air with music stern, 
And grand with volum'd thunder of thy voice 
Ton'd in majesty, from domed darkness, 
Window' d in sudden lightnings of thy glory : 
Not only, Lord, the wind thou makest go 
With breasting aid for dizzy flight, up where 
The eagle, cloak'd with folded wings, * on crag 
Stands close to the sun, and calmly gazes back 
On sunward circlinsfs no lesser wing could dare- 



* In allusion to (reported) assertion of Mr. Tennyson that 
he has written his last poem. In this connection, it may be 
remarked, that it must be obvious why, in this tribute paid to 
the genius of Tennyson, Coleridge, Longfellow, George Herbert, 
and others, quotation marks are not used. 



136 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Song-Eagle ! laureate with loneliness : 
Not only, Lord, thy breath in storm-blast came 
Thro' ice, and mist, and snow, and turned did blow 
The good south wind, where soon the white foam flew 
Before the furrow following free, into 
That silent sea wherein, nine fathoms deep, 
Dream-hidden swims the plaguing sprite : not only 
Eddying around the church porch, waits the wind 
To waft to Thee a reverent, holy song 
Of praise ; nor only whirls thro' fiend- sieg'd belfry 
Whose bells, the open-throated swallowing bells, 
Fresh inspirate, give forth in ghostly clangor 
A Golden Legend ; nor thro' tree-tops only, 
Bears the wind melodious streams of song. 
From birds, high-perclrd, on branches sway'd 
And dipping in the current stay'd, uprais'd, 
Bippled by quivering leaves to rhythmic waving 
Golden -green, in summer sunlight : aye, 
And there be many birds swim on the wind, 
To sing in joy for the smiling corn that bends 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 137 

In mirth away, before their flight ; or, on 
The fresh wind balmy with the breath of morning, 
Comes, thro' the woodbined casement, song of birds, 
The cheerful song of sweetly singing birds, 
Throstling among sweet apple-blossoms of spring 
To wake the sleeping homestead soon for bath 
Of rosy light ; or thro' refulgent noon 
The wind goes now, a tempering breeze, for birds 
Whereon to float, and peck from luscious fruits 
Their ripen'd richness turn'd toward sun, and sing 
A full-fed song ; aye even, Lord, the wind, 
Thou sendest calm'd to gentle evening air, 
To bear quick-darting httle humming-birds, 
Then- sweets to drain from honeysuckles train'd 
To tempt with freshen'd leaves by evening showers 
Fresh gemm'd, the western sun to stay his gaze 
From porch, where smiling sit, in quiet talk, 
The elder folk, or watch, in pleased musing, 
Happy gambollings of happy children 
Shouting the children's battle shout, joyful 



138 THE SILVEE WEDDING. 

With rose-peltings : — a distant, rumbling sound, 
From out the gathering southwest — 
Swiftly nearer, nearer, coming on, 
Coming with a majesty of clouds 
And great darkness, that hides the shaken earth 
Smote to jewell'd smoke by bounding ice sparks 
Shot myriad- showering, as if from mighty wheels 
Cloud-envelop'd — the rushing, mighty wind, 
God ! — the rushing, mighty wind ! the breath 
That goeth from thy nostrils out and makes 
The morning stars to sing together, above 
The cloud-capp'd towers!" — the rushing, mighty 

wind ! 
The breath that goeth from Thy nostrils forth 
Among the spheres, unto the uttermost 
Of suns that swoop thro' space with ponderous 

planets, 
To bear from Thee, to Thee, the anthem-peal 
Of Thy whole universe, this music scor'd 
* Tempest. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 139 

Throughout the spheres, upon Eternity 

And time ! nor lost a note, nor tone, nor sound, 

nor word, 
Nor thought, nor rhythm.* Nay, Lord of all, nay, 
God ! the cries, the shrieks, the groans of agony 
The curses, blasphemies, red sounds t of battle 
And blood, of rending for prey, or hate, or food, 
None lost are these throughout the spheres ! — these 

are 
But discords harsh and grating dissonance 
Of loss and gain, of loss to gain, of strife 
Thro' will left free, of somewhat right of choice — 
The something left for choice, that men call 

chance — 
Thy Works have, all, from Thee, to work Thy 

will: 



* Alluding to the agreement between Sir W. Hamilton and 
Mr. Babbage, that the battle of Actium might still be seen if 
the sound and sight waves could be overtaken. 

t Sounds have colour through instantaneous condensation. 



140 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

And Thou the wrath of man makest to praise Thee : 
Thou makest sin, and sorrow, and death to praise 

Thee: 
In waste that is not loss, Thy Works all praise Thee : 
These discords settest Thou, as notes all mark'd 
With Thy Changed Cross for rest, in that grand 

score 
Wherein Thy mighty hands, spanning the mighty 
Diapason, grasp their dissonance 
For lustre of harmonies prepared, resolved, 
Compell'd by Thee, Thou Great Master, to mix 
And melt in harmony restored, eternal : — 
The rushing, mighty Wind ! 
The wing'd chariot of the Lord and the horsemen 

thereof ! 
To bear up, heavenward, His chosen Inspired ! 
The rushing, mighty Wind ! 
And yet — 
A still small voice : 
The voice of desert air light-breath'd ; waking 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 141 

The fire, in lonely musing left unwatch'd, 
Unnoticed, to steal from lonely desert camp, 
And creeping slow, low-crouching thro' dead grass, 
To spring from its charred tracks with roars and 

glance 
Of flame, upon the tall, dead prairie sedge, 
And share its prey with the up- whirling Wind 
That loads, upon the freighting clouds, dead ashes : 
Only dead ashes ; but yet may spread a haze 
Of dreamy Indian- Summer ; shaken dust, 
From track of travelling clouds that pass 
The Eagle's crag, and drop their fatness down 
Upon broad lands enrich" d of yore : 
A still, smaU voice — 
The voice as of a lonely song ; 
Of bird sad-plumaged, sitting lone ; on reed — 
Only a shaken reed — but shaken, trembling ; 
Bent before the rushing, mighty Wind 
Thro' unkempt locks of tall swarnp-cypresses 
Blowing, and in their waving grey beards caught, 



142 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

And check'd, to moan about their feet among 
The rustling reeds, whence comes the humble voice 
Of lonely bird : on only shaken reed 
Bending before the mighty stream of hymning 
Borne, from Thee to Thee, upon Thy breath 
Outgoing forth thro' spheres, among the stars 
That sing together above the cloud-capp'd towers 
And rolling thunder of the organ-clouds. 

ii. 

rushing, mighty Wind and breath of God 
That bears thro' time, and thro' Eternity, 
This hymn of the Ages ! this whole grand anthem- 
peal, 
This music mightiest in the mightiest, 
From uttermost to uttermost, thro' sphere 
To sphere, thro' sun and planet, thro' the Earth's 
Four corners ; blowing on Chaldean tents, — 
From Himalayas, back to Himalayas, 
Circling ; over wastes and wilds ; o'er lands 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 143 

With belfries spired, thro' lofty tree-tops chimes, 
Of silver-mixt bell-tones, rolling ; to blend 
With noble song from high-perch'd tuneful birds 
Quiring with field and homestead songsters sweet, 
And voices of laughing children : yet, to these — 
Yea, Lord, not only sendest Thou Thy breath 
Forth thro' the spheres, or buildest organ-clouds 
About the towers, near eagles' eyrie, or 
Inspirest tuneful songs of high-perch'd birds, 
Or songs that cheer the homestead — aye, to these, 
Not only : nay, my God, the Hymn of the Ages, 
The song of the Lowly uplift to the nations in 

glory, 
May the lowly hear and join : not only Thou 
Thro' sacred madness of the bard makest 
Music,' :: but, in being of the humblest, 
Even Thy humblest, has Thou put a song ; 
For full enharmony of Thy creation 
Working Thy works, thro' quest of mate to mate — 
* Tennyson : The Holy Grail. 



144 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Even lowest bacteria — even in parthenogenesis — 
Self- compliment al : the All, in prayer, praise, work, 
All worshipping toward Thee ! 

in. 

A new symphony, " Glory to God on High " — 
Of men and angels singing praise to God, 
Bursts out from Heaven and Earth : the symphony 
Of Christmas this, as writ in Heaven's score : 
First in Judaea heard ; where long time gone, 
From Israel's great harp King David smote 
The songs of Zion's hope : bursts out in joy 
The Christmas Symphony, from angel choir 
Eesponsive rank'd of Che'rubim and Se'raphim, 

for ever ; 
And men do chant it still to sound of shawm 
And trumpet ; and of organ roiling surf 
Of music billows surging mightily : 
Bursts forth the Christmas Symphony : — 
But first, a soft prelude, an angel sings, 



THE SILVEK WEDDING. 145 

The Annunciation, this : — " Hail Mary ! Hail 

Thou full of grace ; and bless'd thou among 

Women : Fear not, for with thee is the Lord ; 

And thou, with God, hast favour found. Behold, 

The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee now ; 

The Highest's power shall overshadow thee ; 

That holy thing which shall be born of thee, 

Parthenogenerant* thou of God's own Spirit, 

Shall Son of God be caU'd. And, God of God, 

Thus, He : Son of the Highest : Son of God, 

Of God thus wedded to humanity 

For full self-complement of His own glory, 

Very God of God and Light of Light, yet God 

Made man, — of His Kingdom shall there be no end." 

And soon now, 

Softly thro' th' expectant harmony, 

And blending sweetness with Creation's hymn, 

Glides in among the chords, 

* Sesquipedalian, — but the only word that conveys the 
shade of meaning. 

K 



146 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

A woman's voice — 

The voice of a woman, in maternity 

Exultant : singing a cantata, grave, 

And sweet, and rising in rich-throated fullness, 

Prom her innermost being, in very triumph 

Of motherhood, — " My soul doth magnify 

The Lord ; my spirit hath rejoice'd in God 

My Saviour." This is writ " Magnificat" 

Or song of Virgin Mother, — song of a mother 

Virgin-pure, exultant that her womb 

Shall bear a son who shall be great, a King, 

And Saviour of men. Soon bursts forth now 

The Christmas Symphony from Earth and Heaven : — 

" Gloria in Excelsis Deo — In the Highest, 

To God be glory, and on Earth be peace, 

Good will toward man." The Symphony, this is, 

That sings the hope of the longing All, fulfill'd 

In the hymn of the Ages, the deathsong of the Lowly 

Uplift to the nations in glory. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 147 

IV. 

And all may hear 
And sing, as shall be given of voice and ear, 
The all-harmony : in part, each only ; even 
As every fiery prophet could but speak 
His music by the framework and the chord : * 
And some hear only dissonance, and sing 
True notes in false accord ; even such false tones 
As viols, perfect else and priceless, may 
At last give out, when too long resonant 
With false vibration thrill' d from others near. 
Thus false of ear and voice are they that sing 
" Lo, here is Christ, — or Christ is there : " — or sing 
14 My brother, I that harp to thee, lo ! I am Christ ; 
And thou, too, brother, listening, art with me, 
A Christ : each in our joint humanity." 
Ay, me, my brother, that those notes, those sweet 
True tones, in false vibration caught and mangled, 

* Tennyson.— k ' The Holy Grail." 

k2 



148 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Should sound distuned from harps of jangling 
strings. 
Thou art Christ, as thou art join'd with Him, 
And He in thee, as one with thee : but not 
The Christ art thou — lo, brother ! hear the Paean 
Of triumph — this last peal, that shakes and rounds 
With fullness all the swelling harmony : — 

" Christ is risen ! 
He is risen indeed ! 
And hath captivity led captive ; 
For as all die in Adam, even so 
In Christ shall all be made alive ! " 

O brother, even sweet spring flowers burst 
The grave of dark, cold winter, and sing 
To you the Easter Anthem — upward look, 
From introspect diseased, of thine own self, 
Out from thine own self, turn thy gaze above, 
And let thy vision pierce a whirling void 
Thro' clouds and thro' the brooding darkness 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 149 

Brother ! — lo there, is Christ ! — lo, there on High ! 
Enthroned in glory of the Father — there! — 
All clad upon with thy humanity, 
With thy humanity above thee raised, 
That thou mayest struggle up above thyself, 
God helping thee, from God to God in man ; 
And with the Father and the Comforter, — 
Aye, w T ill he come and dwell with thee ; and thou 
Shalt be at one with God ; but brother, thou 
Art not the Christ. The Christ is God, who 
Born of a virgin was : and died for us 
On Calvary : and rose again, the God, the man, 
To God's right hand. And he shall come again, 
Shall judge the All, entime disharmony, 
Shall wipe all weeping eyes : the Lord of Lords, 
The Christ, the Lord himself, the mighty Lord ! 
Shall bow the heavens down and come to j udge 
And punish : and the dead shall rise again 
Before the Christ : and there shall be, of sins, 
Forgiveness : and the Everlasting Life. 



150 THE SILVER WEDDING. 



Toward that great day, flows ever on, the stream 
Of boundless harmony, from God, thro' all 
His work, rhythming back to God new chords 
Of being called to life : from God to God, 
Thro' endless ocean moved to rhythmic waves, 
To stormy grandeur laslr d by passing breath 
Of His Spirit, rolls, in endless tides, the stream 
Of mating harmony ; and they therein 
That dwell, that great Leviathan, or least 
Infusory, do all praise Him : and earth, 
Built of their loves that die to live again, 
Builds ever harmonies anew, thro' quest 
Of mate to mate. For what the mystery 
Of generation, aye, of creation what 
But passing on of God's own Spirit through 
The All ; out of crude, void, unform'd, to form ; 
Thro' object- subject, male-female, create 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 151 

Creative through relation, that the All 
Doth build through sex reactive ; all to call 
To life, or being, inorganic, all, 
Or organic : as the Lord of All shall will. 

VI. 

For ever, ceaseless, roll the rhythmic waves 
Of harmony, from all His Work to God 
For ever pleased to hear and see His works, 
Creation's Anthem sweetly, grandly, sing, 
With crescent peal full diapason drawn, 
Bearing His Cross. And they of earth best hear, 
As given is to earth- dull' d ear to hear, 
Who stand where ebbs and Hows in endless tides, 
And strands drift-tokens of the far unknown, 
This endless ocean of being and praise, 
About the mount of God. Aye, there it is 
As if God, pleased to hear and see His works 
Ministrant in prayer and praise and work 
Throughout the All, Himself, in human voice, 



152 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Deign'd with gentle accompaniment to join 

Creation's song, in octave full of blessing 

Key-noted with humility, all based 

On purity : for that, the lowly, hope 

Should have, thro' the Lowly uplift to the nations in 

glory 
And the pure, the pure in heart — they should see 

God. 

VII. 

Yes there : there where the spheral harmony 
Enrounds the Earth, and ebbs and flows in rhythm 
Among Judsea's hills and vales, upon 
The Mount of God, and meets sweet rills of mercy 
Flowing past the Hill of Sacrifice, — 
There in Jewry known, best known, is God: 
And there best heard, the harmony of God 
In all His Work ; and as if heard in song 
Low- voiced — " By the Brook Cedron " — of a mother, 
Soothing child to sleep when crickets chirp 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 153 

On hearth, from mate to mate ; when evening air, 

Drowsy with the summer breath of flowers, 

Floats the all pervading hum of life 

Thro' window ; or when with thunder the heavens 

Burst, and lightening^ flash in on the child 

Safe in the mother's arms, and cahnd in awe 

That God our Father speaks from Heaven out, 

As He from Sinai spoke, and is the great 

I Am, the God in All, and over All. 

And other songs of Zion, — Lord ! blessed she that 

sings 
The songs of Zion to her child ! and he, 
In dreams of night, in the night of his age, 
Shall hear them still, — songs all of Zion's King ; 
Of God made man, and of a virgin born, 
A babe in manger laid, and by Three Kings 
Of Orient homaged as the Christ : and songs, — 
What time his mother sought Him sorrowing, 
And once stood, in great dolor, near the cross 
On which He died that all might live through Him 



154 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

At one n harmony with God : and songs, — 

Of how a halo shone about His head, 

And beautiful His feet, on golden light 

Shadow'd, as on Judaea's hills He walk'd, 

Good Shepherd seeking sheep estray'd : 

And other songs, — of how Christ bore the griefs, 

The pains and sorrows of humanity ; 

And sooth'd them, healing sick humanity ; 

And bless'd the family, in that he made 

The Marriage Wine a miracle of power 

Of Him who made from the beginning, them, 

Who should from all else cleave together twain 

In one, male and female, — Himself begot, 

The Seed of the Woman, of humanity, 

His highest, wedded to God, for blessing 

Of His lowest building all through quest 

Of mate to mate : and bless'd the family 

In that, should be destroy'cl degraded types 

That Terah pattern'd first, for household gods, 

From the Ark of Safety, types soon begrimed 



THE SILVEK WEDDING. 155 

With bloody superstition : — and false gods, 
And fear of Moloch, should from the hearth be 
driven. 

VIII. 

The All builds all thro' quest of mate to mate, 
One God is all hi all, in least, in great ; 
And God made Man, who bless'd the Marriage Wine, 
Creator, Sanctifier, Saviour, trine, 
The God, of Cherubim on high adored and Seraphim, 
These Three in One are yet the household Teraphim. 

And These — 
Aye, These ! the Teraphim in that grey stone 

steading ; 
Where the sun went down, and out from heaven were 

hung 
The silver starlights, on the Silver- Wedding 
Of faithful pah-, who all through life had clung, 
God-join'd, with truthful love that naught had riven, 
Nor man, nor clash of will, nor disasters leaven. 



156 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

And there was worn, 
Unsoil'd, untorn, 
As pure as pure could be, 
Nor wrinkl'd, nor shameless shrunk, nor stretch'd too 

long, 
Nor colour changed, nor task'd to hide a wrong, — 
The mantle of Chastity. 



IV. 



IN MEMORIAM. 



THE LEGEND. 

IV. 



THE GOLD-WROUGHT HORN, 
i. 

" Another gift would I bestow " — 
The Dwarf said, (Oh ! that he would go, 
This horrid Dwarf ! from hence away, 
Nor ever hither come ! — now pray 
The dames) — " one other gift would show 
To King and all the Table Round : 
But, first, 'tis meet that all should know 
This gift may prove some knight unsound." 
So fain to have the Dwarf away, 
The dames would bid him, now, to stay. 



160 THE LEGEND. 



II. 



Then from the scrip hung at his side, 
Much soiled with mire, wine stained, worn, 
And, like a palmer's, long and wide, 
The Dwarf drew forth a drinking horn : 
Nor ever was horn more richlie wrought, 
Than this the Dwarf in scrip had brought. 
He showed it held on golden legs, 
Carved as brawny lion's paws ; 
Of diamant, the drinking pegs 
Mark on gold, down to the dregs, 
The lawful stint of temperate laws ; 
And round the brim, a crown of gold, 
The rich red wine, in bound, might hold. 

in. 

And quoth the Dwarf — i ' Now know ye all, 
None other this so richlie wrought — 



THE LEGEND. 161 

None other this than very horn 
From head of ox that knelt in stall, 
When Christ our Lord a babe was born ; 
By Joseph of Arimatliea brought 
To Glastonbury from Palestine, 
With holy cup that held the wine, 
The sangreal of Christ. His weal 
Was, under Vespasian's hand and seal, 
Commended to the Britons' king, 
The king Arviragus, whom Borne 
Held tributary. And so the king 
Was gracious ; and bestowed a home 
At Glastonbury, twelve hides of land, — 
One hide to each, — on Joseph's band 
Of freres, when Joseph was sent forth 
By Philip the Apostle, to light the north, 
That thro' the fog of heathenesse 
Might men our Lord's fair face confesse." 



162 THE LEGEND. 



IV. 



This Gold- wrought Horn he filled with wine, 
Not Quex's, as sooth, may one divine ; 
But with wine himself had brought, 
Filled now, the Dwarf, tins horn gold- wrought ; 
And spake these words with manner dry : — 
" He, who would win this horn, may try ; 
And win it may he, easilie ; 
Who, knight as dame, aye, he as she, 
Is chaste and true ; nor fails ere now, 
The knight to keep the lmightlie vow, 
And vigil true of temperance, 
Besides devoir with sword and lance. 



" But knight may not of this horn drink, 
'Twere better should he from it sin-ink, 
Who spills three drops, but only three ; 
For both are false, his dame as he : 



THE LEGEND. 163 

He may not chink, but must refrain. 

Who spills two drops, but only two, 

Breaks only his vigil, but his dame's not true ; 

Nor can this knight this gold horn drain. 

Who only one drop spills, may win : 

Tho' failed in vigil, yet true his dame ; 

And he hath overcome his sin. 

But only knight, from sin and shame 

All free, may drink, nor spill a drop, 

To win this horn. No longer stop 

To gaze " — said the Dwarf — " but fearless try : 

Doubtless ye thirst — my speech is dry." 



VI. 



What ails the knights, that they gaze on still? 

It seems that drink, none can, or will, 

Where all are fain to drink then- fill : 

What ails the knights that not one stirs, 

Yet all in battle have won then* spurs ? 

l2 



164 THE LEGEND. 

Wherefore passeth from dame to dame 
Look triumphant, drowned in shame ? 
Ay me ! doth each knight fear to spill 
The wine, though fain to chink his fill ! 

vn. 

The Dwarf then at the king looked hard, 
And said : — " Sir Arthur ! — laureate bard, 
Than Taliesin greater, of thee shall sing. 
In sweeter than sweet key of Gwynedd, 
As aye true knight and ' blameless king ' ;* 
Likewise, thy judges, in law much read, 
Do say the king can do no wrong : 
So honour we both, the law, the song ; 
Nor offer thee I this horn to win : 
A king should be blameless of shame and sin. 
But hard wert thou on the queen thy wife ; 
Look well, Lord Arthur, on thine own life." 

* Tayles of the King. — Tennyson. 



THE LEGEND. 165 

VIII. 

• And as on lihn the Dwarf did gaze, 
With eye wide open, yet filmed with haze, 
The king became as one asleep, 
Yet searching with sense of unknown loss, 
"Who nears a brink of bog ooze, deep, 
And hidden under treacherous moss ; 
Alone, with eyes stared in the daze 
Of false witch-fires, beyond, ablaze : 
And he had fallen : but the Dwarfs eye 
Grew red, as with the blushing light 
That wakes the day, and from the sky 
Drives veiling darkness of the night : 
And then the king recovered sight, 
And caught himself, and stood upright. 

IX. 

And now the court do call to mind 
How the king had seemed to find 



160 THE LEGEND. 

Something gone from out his life, 
Unknown to him how false his wife ; 
Something missed, that made him seek 
Eestless joyaunce ; made him weak ; 
Made him prey to wanton eye : 
And well-nigh fallen was he thereby. 
But when the king now stood upright, 
As the Dwarfs eye blushed with rosy light, 
All know the bard, for aye, may sing, 
Of him, true knight and ' blameless king.' 



Then, one by one the horn they try. 
None can this urgent Dwarf deny ; 
And many an one, the drinking horn 
Makes fain to wish him never born. 
As each one tries, the Dwarf his scrip 
Holds under the horn, to catch the drip : 
Ay me, for scrip with wine soon soaked — 
Ay me, for knight whom wine hath choked ! 



THE LEGEND. 167 

Some fancie themselves to drown with wine ; 
Some, never but water to drink, incline ; 
The scrip grows, more and more, winestained ; 
But the Gold- wrought horn, no knight hath 

drained. 
Quoth Dwarf,— " Of all the Table Bound, 
Can never a knight who drinks be found ! " 



XI. 



Then, to Sir Cradocke, his ladye said : — 
" Dear lord, thou truly mayest not dread 
To win this Gold- wrought drinking-horn : 

My truth on it ! tho 1 all may fail, 

This thou shalt win for me this horn ; 

Thy strength shall now prove thine avail." 

" Yea : " — quoth the king — " fair dame, well said ! 

For thy good lord, thou need'st not dread." 

Wherefore aloof, doth Sir Cradocke stand ? — 

Nor toward the horn reach forth his hand ! 



168 THE LEGEND. 



XII. 

Whereon, the Dwarf on the knight bends eye 
None may this awful Dwarf deny. 
Sir Cradocke then his hand reached forth ; 
Now shall be known how true his worth. 
And as the Gold-WTOught horn he took, 
From head to foot he trembling, shook, 
As fire of battle from the Dwarfs eye shot ; 
And the knight became as one who, hot 
With struggling, a wrestling victorie sought. 
His thews did strain and gnarl and knot ; 
It was as tho' his soul now wrought 
In tears, with agony of strife : 
" Not e'en knew I " — thought the dame his wife ; 
And when he raised the Gold- wrought horn, 
He trembled as ne'er since he was born ; 
'Twas only trembling of hard strained strength 
Still quivering from the battle's length : 



THE LEGEND. 169 

Yet he one drop of wine hath spilled, 
One only drop of all that filled 
The Gold- wrought horn. 

XIII. 

Now know they all, 
God's wounds had bled afresh for him 
Tho' doughty knight, who still might fall : 
And all now know the gold crowned brim 
May safely hold the wine within ; 
Lost only this one drop, of all. 
And thus the knight this horn did win, 
For he had overcome his sin, 
With truer vigil of temperance, 
Besides devoir with sword and lance. 

XIV. 

As fire-purged silver, clear and bright, 
The Dwarfs eye shone. Assorted of wrong, 



170 THE LEGEND. 

Sir Cradocke the Strong- Arm'd, the Battle Knight, 

The knight with soul, as arm, so strong, 

Did then, before that courtlie throng, 

A reverence make to his beauteous dame, 

His beauteous dame of fairest fame : 

And said, holding the Gold- wrought Horn 

To her who hath the Mantle worn : — 



xv. 

" My ladie dear, mine own true wife ! — 
'Tis the day of days in all my life : 
Five- and- twenty years are past, 
Since thou became my first, my last ; 
But only the years have stored away 
Their dates — 'tis still our wedding day, 
This day on which this evening sun 
Is profit of another won 
To set in gold. But now I spy, 
As wrought with silver, in our evening sky, 



THE LEGEND. 171 

A royal heartsease of great beautie, 

Upon the golden heaven beyond, 

In token of sweet love and dutie 

That us have linkt in heaven-made bond. 

In memorie whereof, I drink to thee ; 

Drink thou, too, dear dame, with me, 

Of this, the wine the Dwarf hath brought, — 

Thy lips best crown this Horn Gold- wrought ! " 

XVI. 

Then drank the knight from the gold- crowned 
brim 
And, making reverence, then pledged she him. 
Not other drop, of all that filled 
The Gold- wrought Horn, again, was spilled ; 
Nor held it dregs, through magic laws, 
This horn with gold-carved lion's paws : 
And passed, between this God-joined pair 
Of doughtie knight and ladie fair, 



172 THE LEGEND. 

The looks of love from heaven lent 
To marriage, made in heaven above. 
Of twain in one together blent : 
God-joined they — for God is love. 



XVII. 

Now all the court and Table Bound 
Do make the hall's carved roof resound 
With loud acclaim ; all under sway 
Of that dread eye they must obey, 
Tho' envie hold that goodlie array. 
And cried the king, — " Thou truest knight, 
By God his wound that bled anew, 
For thee ! — oh ! may this saving sight 
Of us, and all, as thee, be true ! — 
Still further honour will we show ; 
That, to all time, our realm may know 
True knight, and ladie true as fair, 
In wedlock true, as God-joined pair. 



THE LEGEND. 173 

Fill goblets, — not such," — so spoke the king, — 
As dwarf may melt, but dwarf doth bring ; 
And fill with wine the Dwarf hath brought, 
Where from was filled the Horn Gold- wrought. 

XVIII. 

" Now," — said the king when all had filled ; 
And the Dwarf's eye gave, thereto, assent — 
11 Fear not we, that wine be spilled 
So consecrate with true intent. 
From royal hall, here in Caergwent, 
We do for ever and aye ordain, 
In honour of this noble pair, 
This use and custom to obtain 
Throughout our realm, in hall or steading, 
In town, or hamlet, of the Silver Wedding ; 
Kept aye as marriage Jubilee 
For faithful pair that joined be 
Thro' five-and-twenty married years, — 
Years, silver-plumaged, bedrent with tears, 



174 THE LEGEND. 

Or swift with joy. Of silver, all, 
Shall he the tokens, in cot or hall ; 
Be token great, or he it small." 

XIX. 

" And drink we now " — said on the king — 
" To health of this true, noble pair ; 
And wealth, and honours, may time long bring 
Sir Cradocke and his ladie fair ! " 
And then, in honour of these twain, 
They all did drink. And then, again, 
With loud acclaim, did hall resound : — 
May all, elsewhere, to join, be found ! 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 

PART IV. 

IN MEMOKIAM. 
i. 
Helen heard that youthful song of love 
Which Bran, from medieval chest of lungs, 
Strong-ribbed, rolTd cheerily thro' echoing hall, 
From library to the larder. And Meadows, 
Seeing from her mistress' blush how fast 
The years were rolling back before the car 
Of youth's sun-god, grew smiling-bold to say 
(For womankind from womankind claims part 
And share in triumph) that naught, should library 
Find amiss, that day, from larder : and, 
Leaving there her mistress with the past, 
Herself went forth to marshal victory. 



176 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

II. 

But Helen's soul -went back to meet the god 
Of youth's bright morn : went, soul with soul, with 

him 
Who, heart and heart, with her, long years agone, 
Had greeted Love's first coming. For the song 
Of Bran, sung now, was as a herald's voice 
Proclaiming larger realm for Love ; and as 
The god came on, the years, offring tribute 
Of memories, closed in behind his car, 
A joyous, weeping, struggling, smiling train. 

in. 

And Helen felt how great Bran's love for her, 
In all those years : knew all her love for him ; 
Knew how she had been helpmate true, to him ; 
And thought how little hands had held to him 
Sweet pledges of her love and true wifehood : 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 177 

And all the glowing beauty of her youth ; 
And all the peerless beauty of her truth 
And love, thro' all those passing married years ; 
And all the holy beauty of her faith, 
Of soul and life, well tried, — uprose and show'd 
There all the maiden, wife and mother blent 
In blushing beauty of crown' d womanhood. 
And Helen rose and to her nursery went, 
And saw her cradle empty nest, of young 
No longer fledgelings ; and then from drawers 
Took little socks, and kiss'd the little curls 
Reap'd in tears from little heads now wing'd 
As cherubim : and thence to her own room 
Passing, she knelt at that bed undefiled, 
Knelt where her maidenhood, to motherhood 
Blooming, had died to give her cherubs birth. 

IV. 

Nor, in his library, writing, was Bran Cradocke 
Less busy, in memoriam of what 



178 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Of joys, of care, and grief, of life, or death, 
His five-and-twenty married years had hid 
Away from sight of all save memory's ken — 
The years that ring the marriage bells for birth, 
And toll the knell of death. And as he thought 
On all those years, his countenance, at times, 
Was moved as if by happiness, to smiles ; 
Or broaden'd, with quaint, quiet humour, spread ; 
Or anon, it wrought as if his soul with stress 
Of feeling struggled, and manhood's tears fell 
As wasteway waters dammed for husky grist. 
And while he thought back on his wedded life, 
The years became as into one year roll'd 
That brought to him the bride of youth, and she 
Became one bride — his Silver- Wedding bride 
Of this his Silver- Wedding Day. And there, 
So rapt from time and place was he, that naught 
He heeded of the gentle book- spirits 
That round him w T heel in silent guardianship. 
Nor even heard he low and cautious laugh 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 170 

That seem'd to test safe entrance thus. 

Thro' door push'd cautiously ajar, for two 

Who softly whisper'd kl Father ! " For his hands, 

The father s own hands, tampered with by heart, 

Had ofton turn'd traitors, to let in, thro' 

Library walls impregnable else, ti. 

Dear foes to quiet. There, at door, stood now. 

Red-hooded, with sash-wrapp d cap, and shod with 

snow, 
Two — boy and girl — well grown, but children 
With still unspent their wealth of childhood's fancy; 
For they had come with glee to -how their sire 
What rich brown pipes, as meerschaums colour'd all, 
Had this year's chestnut leaf- stems made. But these 
Even, the father heeded not. And ti. 
Each to the other, look'd, — u Where lore so mov'd, 
Our father " — and awed, on tiptoe walk'd away, 
Seeing that their father took no heed. 



M 2 



180 THE SILVER WEDDING. 



For all the past loom'd up before Bran Cradocke : 
As loom the Alps thro' clouds that feed with snow 
The frozen river slowly moving down 
In icy mass with grinding flow that rifts, 
And ranges in long drawn moraines, the spoils 
From mountain slope whereon, who stands, midway, 
May feel the shock of chasms, and hear the voice 
Of life from far- down, smiling valley fed 
To verdure by the rills the frozen river 
Melts to give. Yet who there midway stands, 
For panting rest with alpenstock, shall know 
That still — above the valley and the clouds, 
And Alps with frozen river ever melting, 
For- ever bearing back to earth what was 
From earth upraised — spreads over mountain top, 
Heavenward, that serene, clear, purest ether 
Deepening toward Eternity and God. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 181 

VI, 

And as Bran wrote, it could not fail but that 
The retrospect should sometimes blur with tears 
The view of five-and-twenty married years. 
For children had been born to them, and some 
Were dead : and one was gone from out their gates ; 
And he, tho' living, had become as one 
Dead to them, whose name was never named — 
So grievous the naming of it — save in prayer. 
Thus doom of trouble, born with man as upward 
Fly the sparks, had not passed by the home 
Of Bran and Helen ; and disasters leaven 
Struck their substance with consuming stroke 
So fell, that hungry want bark'd at their door. 
And sickness on the strong man came and beat 
Him down, and cast him weaken'd to the sea, 
Where scarcely could he buffet with the waves, 
So great his weakness ; and well nigh the waters 
Had gone over him : and blinded so was he 



182 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

With bitter brine, that scarcely could he see, 
Had nearly fail'd to say, " Save Lord, I perish !" 
But fail'd not : and help came : but if denied, 
Still knew the strong soul of the man who now 
In ivied greystone house sits grateful there 
For house, and barn, and store, and blessings all, — 
That in His Father's house were many mansions : 
Yet had he well nigh sunk for very faintn< 

VII. 

But the woman was true woman, bearing griefs, 
His griefs with hers : and was true wife, nor fail'd 
To comfort ; nor the weakness of the man 
Beproach'd, but help'd him, being true helpmate 
To him ; and the hand she gave him, on this day 
Five-and-twenty years ago, the hand 
Slender and white and vein'd with Norman blood, 
Did menial service ; but it was as hand 
Of priestess sacrificing ; and often, 
With humour seeking to hide the pathos of it, 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 183 

Would he call her their inspired priestess, 
And her kitchen a temple all glorious 
With sacrifice and the oracles of fate. 

VIII. 

All this, and more, passed thro' Bran Cradocl 

mind, 
As if in stream that flowed where, on the bank, 
Stood Recollection gathering drift from flood 
And eddy — where waters, drain'd from hill and dale, 
Had pass'd thro' varying Bcenes of rugged rock, 
Or opening sun-lit valley, and swell'd to power 
And depth, thro' rich, broad Gelds, past haunts of 

men : 
But that from river headland chiefly seen 
Is beauty of the landscape, and the river 
Bearing, on its middle current, trees — 
Some dead, dry trunks, and some, uptorn from roots, 
Swept living, down the stream ; and sunken things 
Thrown up by boiling eddies. 



184 THE SILVER WEDDING. 



IX. 



Thus, tho' Bran 
Sat writing till the frozen waterclocks 
Had ceased to tick, much more throughout the past 
Had memory spread, than he could now record 
Before the evening sun sent beams to hang 
From mullion'd windows, of Gray stead ivy-clad, 
The glinting shields of golden light, on this 
His Silver-Wedding Day. But most he thought 
On her, his Helen, his Silver- Wedding bride : 
And thus of her he thought, and thus to her 
He wrote : — 

5n HfUmoriam. 

"A Good Wife is of the Lord.'' 



Our Silver- Wedding Day ! — 
Our Silver- Wedding Day, dearest Wife, 
Bears royal rule o'er those that mark our life 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 185 

With daily score of time. To day, we see 
Our Wedding Day proclaim'd in Jubilee : 
The date, not day, is changed. 

day of days ! 
That brought to me the Lord's " Good Gift" which 

sways 
Man's heart of hearts with wealth of treasure trove 
On Earth, but found thro* compact made above 
And full-possess'd by him, is seen so gemm'd 
With joy complete, and crown'd with charms, that, 

hemm'd 
In circle of her faithful arms, her breasts 
Shall satisfy his longing, and make rests 
Whereon his heart may safely place its trust, 
Close where its treasure is — a heaven where rust 
Shall not corrupt its sheen : nor, need of spoil 
Shall he have thus ; and, shunning all lewd coil 
With else, shall keep him only unto her, 
In miser's fear of loss lest death sever. 



186 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

day of days ! roy soul, thro' years, in pride 
And love, recalls the vision of my bride — 
Bright vision of her I loved, and still do love, 
Shall love, for ever, thro' each streek'd remove 
Of Time dissolving to Eternity. 
Bright Vision ! — bright with light of beauty's might 
That aches my gaze with straining and delight, 
Beholding my beloved one : with eyes 
Half drown'd, too, in the stream whose rise 
Took breadth from loveliness, and flooded all 
My being with desire that shall not pall 
With full fruition of the pure embrace : 
For she was mine, and mine alone, thro' grace 
Of Holy Church's blessing laid in laud 
Of chastity, upon our hands, by God 
In wedlock clinch' d thro' reverend priest, to weld 
Such juncture of our wedded lives, that held 
In oneness (thus the priest did speak the will 
Of God, to all the company, lest ill 
Should follow ignorance) no man might foin 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 187 

With sunderance what God should thus conjoin. 
Bright Vision ! she who then stood by my side 
In veiled shrine for me alone, my bride 
With orange blossoms crown'd, thro' all the years 
Time freights with what of good or ill it bears, 
Still turns to me those eyes with heartsease tint. 
In earnest of the love that us had linkt, 
And gemm'd with fluxnre of the ruby fused 
In garnet, for my worship. And the thrill 
Of those dear lips in wedded kiss doth still 
Record the loving promise of her heart, 
To beat for me alone, until death us part. 

day of days ! my soul, thro' all these years 
Pinion'd in winged flight with joys and tear-. 
Hath loved her for the worth which virtue tries 
Against the weight of gems, and finds its price 
Beyond what rubies can the scales disturb 
In balance, with preponderance. No curb 
Of doubt, thou day of days ! doth fret the tread 
Of Memory's train, by thee, in harness led : 



188 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

But Honour guides the course, whereon do throng 

Her pursuivants to herald all along 

The route, and rich purveyance freely make 

Of heartroom, and of love, for her dear sake 

Whose car- borne image Memory thus convoys 

To me, as far beyond all else in life 

Most precious — Image of my darling wife ! 

And mother of my children. For she tcem'd 

With offspring, of our love begot ; and seem'd 

Far dearer when she gave to them, from me, 

Their lives conceiv'd and nourish'd of her body. 

God's Spirit breath'd them into life ; but soon 

BecalTd some : that so, might we, in loss, 

Direct our gaze above the bloodstain" d Cross 

To seek them near the Crown, with cherubs quir'd, 

Awaiting us to join their song. Untired, 

They with restful service alway chant 

God's praises ; and with prayers re-chant 

Christ's Intercession for their father, and 

The mother who in pain did bear them, and 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 189 

For sister, brother, all. With us, are yet 

Two left — God ! so grant our sun to set, 

That we may see them bless'd of Thee, 

As thou seest best,— my only prayer this be 

For them : — for him — no longer let him roam 

Astray — be Thou Good Shepherd, Lord, — bring home 

Our Son ! 

day of days ! I well recall 
Her household labor deftly done in all 
These married years : and all her early toil 
While yet the sun wakes morning to uncoil, 
With scanty light, the length of day ; that thus 
She may give meat to all who in her house 
Do dwell — with portion for her maiden too — 
And clothe her household all with scarlet hue 
Of Industry ; her t strength and honour clothe : 
Her children, rising, call her blessed ; sloth 
Doth not her steps delay — in truth, she lends 
Too little thought to her owti good, and spends, 
For us, her life ; her husband praiseth her 



190 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

In all that else she does, and is ; and hear 

This : " let her own works praise her in the gates"- 

Where (being fifty three — these awkwards dates ! ) 

Her husband sits among the elders grave, 

To sing, — in manner of Anacreon 

(Himself a Presbyterian) which may don 

A mood of lighter weft than suits the verse 

That now belauds my wife — to rehearse, 

I say, in alter d strain of song, an ode 

Of how, with creature comforts, our abode 

She graced with pleasing skill ; and strove 

In conflict dire against the demon stove 

That gaped, with horrid, red-hot, flaming mouth, 

Upon her and gave off (as in a drouth 

The earth sends vapour to the sun) great cloud 

Of greasy fumes in agony, with loud 

But strangling bellow up the cavern-length 

Of chimney, when it felt th' unsparing strength 

Which raked its fiery jaws with poker, thrust 

As lance full into them — fearful joust ! — 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 191 

In grasp of slender, steel- strung hand with which 
She eke the demon throttled with damper's twitch, 
And tamed its heated rage to bear the ache 
Of batter cold, poured on its scales to bake 
For breakfast. But, let now the theme be sung 
On lyre, with Teian- Sapphic chords, well strung: — 

Chanson Amoubbuse du Moral Age. 

" Blest as the immortal gods " :: was he 
Who ate those buckwheats bak'd by thee ! — 
Fondly ate — and ate — and ate — 
Nor feared the chill of frigid plate, 
With long delay refilTd, should steal 
Their warm life, and congeal 

The butter's golden flow. 

The table stood the stove so near, 
In kitchen corner, that my dear 

* Ambrose Phillips. — Sappho. 



192 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

(Victorious o'er the demon black, 

In struggle fierce, and with much thwack 

Of raking poker), could transfer 

The deftly lifted cakes, by her, 

" Neat-handed " to our plates. 

Against the window raged the blast 
With which the Windsbraut, all aghast 
At its own sleety, freezing cold, 
Howled for entrance to that fold 
Of comfort, jealous of the care 
Bestow'd by thee upon us there — 

Our household priestess thou ! 

But all in vain, it howl'd in rage 

Of disappointment unassuage ; 

And stoim'd, in fury, off in flight 

Around the corners — at the sight 

Of buckwheat cakes fresh-baked by thee 

For Father, Bran, and Na-ta-wee, — 

And dash'd th' icicles down. 



THE StLVER WEDDING. 193 

But not alone do buckwheat cakes 
Inspire to sing what for our sakes 
My Love hath done. Nor, poker-lance, 
The only brand she wields : large rents 
Attest her needle armed with thread ; 
And who ? — ah, who ! — can sing the bread 

The Nine could never make ! 

I'd rather eat it. Only she 
From spell may let the yeast-elf free, 
And " set the sponge " to rise : — 
As a fair bosom heaves with sighs, 
And longs, in love's hot breath to dree, 
A willing holocaust — ay, me, 

See the Muses' cake all dough ! 

This ne'er befell my Love's loaf- bread — 
Let only Muses feel a dread 
Of dough ! For if not one could bake 
Among the Nine, how shall they take 



194 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

The measures fit for bread and rhyme ? — 
Or temper oven's heat, in time 

To " soak " the sponge aright ? 



But only she the sponge can " set " 
To heave its bosom : or brunette 
The tender crust make oven bake, 
All tinted in so rich a lake 
Upon its rounding breast, as can 
The southern sun with beauty tan 

Fair maiden's blood-flusht cheek. 

The secret of this magic bread 

I must conceal. One only thread 

Of mystery unravelled may, 

As book-mark, lie within this lay 

And hint, what further search may show T , 

The Woman-heart, in weal or woe, 

Beseeks affection's help. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 195 

Tins knowledge found I at the end 

Of mystic rimes home-lore did lend 

My Love for making bread ; and which 

She sang — lo ! sparkling eyes ! — a witch ! — a 

witch ! — 
Whose sleeve-bare are flushed with hue 
The flour would steal to blush in rue 

And envy of their fairness ! 

A Woman's speech, or written words, 
Are alway postscript in the chords, 
With Woman's meaning, most vibrate : 
Nor failed my love to show this trait ; 
Most womanly of women, she 
Ended thus the recipe : — 

" You then, Sir, — kiss the cook! " 

" Kissing the cook " brings back pentameter : 
A graver matter 'tis should Hagar cook 
For Abraham. The mere hypothesis — 

N 2 



196 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Allusion, only, rather, — makes the verse to run 
As blank iambic, cautious of short shrift 
And penance long, should Sarah know this rule 
Obey'd ; yet deem (as well might be the case 
Thro' feminine inconsequence) behest, 
Like this, too well obey'd ; and, therefore, score 
Pentameter — doubled with a measured trend 
Of twice-five finger points to mark the scale — 
Upon the memory of whom it should concern ; 
And so, correct the matrimonial rhythm. 
Lest thanks be given ! — never, thus, did cark 
Of jealousy find aught to feed upon 
Within the borders of our tents ; nor came 
There, either, from without, its mournful cry ; 
As of a wolf that squats in outer gloom, 
Or prowls beyond the confines of the camp, 
To wail out, from the darkness inass'd around, 
A dismal howl of hunger, ravening 
To gnaw upon our store of happiness. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 197 

Me, only pleasing punishment befell, 
" Kissing the cook :" my darling wife the cook — 
None else ; for I did kiss her when the witch, 
Her hands in flour, had ended all her work 
Of magic, with the spell wherewith she moved 
Desire thro' arch enchantment of her words 
Last spoken : but lo ! for this — a loving rape 
Of cherries from her lips, herself had oaus'd 
Did, quick, her hands, as if besieg'd within 
The breadpan's walls, make sally forth in clouds 
Of floury dust that blinded with defeat 
Th' invader ; — or as ant-lions, shooting streams 
Of sand, do blind their prey incautious of 
The pitfall dug for drowning them in dust : 
And as th' Aurora of the Pole bedights 
The rosy northern night with whitish bars ; 
So did those hands emblazon pales of flour, 
With reddening accolade, upon my cheeks— - 
Each turn'd to meet the blow : for well I knew 
That, thro' the tender vengeance of her arms, 



198 THE SILVEE WEDDING. 

Did wind the love-imperilTd route to those 
Dear lips — the portals whence to reave the prize, 
The witch fix'd there with charms, and break 
The spell she laid upon me. My devoir, 
Done gallantly, rich guerdon of her kiss 

Receiv'd. 

But did the spell dissolve ? — 
Beloved ! often have we watch'd from deck 
How rising, rolling, dolphin-gambols fleck 
The ocean's breast so gently musing in 
The balmy air which wrought, in quiet din, 
Those tinkling silver lingets thrown by sun, 
Down from his treasury, to forge them on 
The azure with a jewelry of light, — 
And working thus did aspirate its might 
Upon the twinkling waves, with zephyrs free 
And breathing such a dreaminess, — that we, 
Too, mused ; — of ships ; — our voyage ;— and of that 
Deep ocean bearing us upon the flat 
Of its broad plain, — a gently waving lea, 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 199 

Whereon sprang up, from coverts leaf'd with spray, 
The thn'rous flying-fish ; as does the quail, 
With startled whirring, rise to leave a trail 
In air, that may the pointer's scent deceive, 
And save its hunted life, or gain reprieve. 

But tho' the calm mid-ocean bore our bark 
That day ; yet thitherward, her course met stark, 
Huge billows tumbling massy boulders on 
The track, to block it with destruction : lone 
Icebergs, befogg'd and floating in a drear 
Of selfish pride, sent chills of aguish fear 
Thro' all, to see how great the danger shunn'd 
And barely 'scaped, box-haul'd the yards, when tunn'd 
With over-heaviness at top, and molt, 
At bottom, by the coursing undervolt 
Of currents warming ocean's life, the bergs 
Went toppling to their dissolution : querks 
Of baffling winds did weary patience out, 
Or angry, stormy gales in wTath make shout, 
And threaten shipwreck ; yet the charmed keel 



200 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Had evermore a truthful spell to feel 
Wherewith, and safely find, her course thro' all: 
Thro' buoys, as warders, posted on channel wall, 
Thro' breezes as maidens dancing on outer green, 
Thro' pampas of blue and gold in the distance seen, 
Thro' offing, alone, when pilot had left our deck, 
Thro' watches of night and day in the threaten'd 

wreck, 
Thro' splashes of death who shotted the feet of some, 
Thro' births into life, which plenishd their vacant 

room. 
Yea : safely kept our bark her course thro' all : 
All thro' the rain-gust bursting from the pall 
With clouds and darkness gloom'd, and droop'd with 

weight 
So drent, that scarely did a hissing jet 
Of molten lightning dart a white-hot streak 
To prick its bulge, before we heard the shriek 
Of rents torn all across the heaven's breath, 
Now awful with the thunder ; and, from the width 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 201 

Of that abysm, did such a down -pour fall, 
As seem' d t'would rain a deluge — but that all 
The pledged word of God shall alway stand, 
For ever good : and so, at last, in bland 
And pleasant weather, did our good, staunch bark 
Sail thro', from th' arch of God's bright arc 
Of promise, out upon mid- ocean lying calm 
And breathing dreamily; and still thro' calm, 
As thro' the storm, she kept her course as well, 
Obedient to the never broken spell 
Of magnet ever swaying truthfully. 

Wife, companion, mine own beloved one ! — 
Our married life is voyaged where the sun 
Hath thrown upon its calm mid-ocean breast 
The silver lingets forged (some work'd to crest 
Our brows with fine drawn threads) to celebrate 
Our Silver- Wedding : happiness, elate 
As with the joy of dancing zephyrs, thought 
No shrilling winds should blow the cold bewrought 
By winter, o'er the blue and golden plain ; 



202 THE SILVER W'KIjDIN 

Storms hung o'er us, and broke, and sent a rain 

Of tears that well nigh blinded faith, in f. 

Thro' the great darkness, Lest oui God not ne 

Us was, or hid His fact', in wrath nut 1«>\ 

From whom he chasten'd ; also, came II. 

A spirit of counsel and of ghostly strength, 

Yet trembler with the Batterings thru" the length 

Of stormy night, to brill the branch 

All leafd with hope and peac * tin- rannch 

Of wrestling waters ; and our bust h 

The doubtful mist made glori 

Of brilliant polychrome, emblazoning 

Arehwise, to show our trust should be a thing 

Enduring as th 1 assurance of good will 

Th' All Father bears to as: our \ till. 

Its reckoning keeps at noon, in life's ealm run. 

On this our Silver- Wedding Day: our Sun. 

Past twelve of the clock, hath gone to turn upon 

The East his lengthening shadows, but he gilds 

A track with glory widening, as he build- 



THL Ml.YKK WXDDH) '203 

It westward; and th' horizon all around — 

1 think it touch.- heaven. To the -omul 

lee, 
Our Life-bark holds -till, on 1 

• day 
We mo* i in Hi I Ail mtio, on the play 
of dolphins i 
I'pon the fiah « I 
Them Bpi 

In amain how, like as on tl 

The ]•! . dolphin's pi 

i j. 
Gome all th' 

n life unseen hath myriad thi 

Than in my lay an now 

While amain or married life, 1 trow, 

Is panning on n .11 

Wherewith a charmed magnet doth compel 
The way. And aa the aiagnet of a ship 



201 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Controls two polos conditional with the dip 

Of single needle, by single current sway'd 

Whereby th- north and south ore brethren made 

Twinn'd in the line dir< n a day — 

Aye, I remember it well, as weD I may, 

When first thos< I nni'd the -lance, 

Magnetic with a new-born love, a trance 

Fell on my soul, and bound thoa 

For ever a-renewing in the oella 

Of heart to heart, in steady ourrent blent 

Thro' affection passing and repassing: I 

And gentle, and unseen, it j 

Our married lives; and oscillation va 

With wavering lessen*d into oneness, thro 1 

Constraint of like with unlike, in the true 

Unisonanoe (^ magic undersong 

Attuning Bonis thro' life and, all alo] 

Low-murmuring charm ordain'd in heaven ah 

Twain to hind in one — for "God is low 

And so: the "spell could never he dissoWd," 



THE >1L\KU NS ttKDDIO. 205 

Is tli answer now — from paralipee evolved 

Witfa mining cl 

" Bui will"— 1 hear the thought, 
woman thought, with which, this day, you sought 

D with what 
You think niv hi j image khai 

I uthlully) — 
11 Will fa ur 

Was brown then, and ti. fan would q i 

•l«l «lust 

raid tm: ., that tl 

bj him 
Thai he would I to him a form 

A «ls 

im, 
larling, 1 - 1 evei -till; — bul h< 
I fear me, he will not believe me now 

beautiful, on tin -! — 

Our Bilve: \\ edding 



206 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Helen — wife ! 
Believe that in my heart your image standi 
With truthful likeness, full-mirror'd— 
Your own ieac wlf. Our mortal part 
Is ever dying, ever building; and 
Doth ever Lessen with the waste which m 
That earth-environment the innei farm 
Of spirit masons for a dwelli: 
Not needed long. Thaw aw who hate the i 
To b< i : snd I inn one: and bo, mew thro' 
Your earthly form illumind hy the rays 
Of that sun-aureole wherein yon 
Ana thus beheld your spirit-form— as of 
The glorified— shine thro' tin earthly. Tb 
ks now, and ever in the time to I 
When, in the Real I 

No longer shall l38 » 

But face to face,— you were, and shall bs only 
Ever, imaged thus within my soul 
Which dosed, quickly, around your real Bin I 



THK SILVKR WEDDING. 207 

So, i i, only, thus — 

ntifbll 

"My God, 

I bl I Thy name witb thanks, 

On tl this 

good, it thank 

Of B] 

glory — 

ars 

I ; ' 

. which man ni;t 
"1" all {• him on i artli. 

1 1 .rds 

With ii 

lion I 
aek: 

AH 



208 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

To rest in green pastures, and -hike our thii 

I le still waters, and our bouIa 

When wear; with our journeying: for Thy 

Own nai: i Thou as, Lord, b 

Of Righteon and tfao 1 we wal bai 

Dark Valley of the Shad 

No evil will we fear, if Thou be tl 

With us, and o< 

And slaty supply 

All I 
band, I d of 

Chords >tnn-k by the Chi( 3 

OfTl 

1 offer Thee— and simple tho 1 it he — 

Ye1 better : as mine on d b< 

T Thee, oul of mine own b 
All-Father ! wh 1 nil 

Thy Work., with » ild Tliy Y\ 

\Y, 



THE SILVER WK 209 

Unlike with like obej Thy call 

And married be. 
f Woman fa 
Id I ill' re — 

WY honor Tliii 
Seed nf the Virp >rn 

Bluth*d purity, wh. • : hie-* 

igi Wine. 

OG id the B iU 

Id to li* mate to mate — 

I 
TIir«. Tln-t- tin km] horn 

. — 

ve! 

in ail Thy \\ in All. 

: Piraits, Child,- until 



210 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

queen ! — still, all my light, my love, my life, — 
This morning, sang I song of youth all rife 
With love for you, my soul's whole melody : 
Sweetest, best, mine own, dear, tried, true wife ! — 
I know you, now, my BOttTfi whole harmony ; 
And place this verse, which ringfl oin I Life, 

At flood its diver tide, — tie 
Of silver wrought, and by the kindly t li i 
Of friends, in honor brought to celeb 
Our Silver Wedding: but i know full well. 
That not aa least, you'll pri* mj pell 

Still binds : your lo\. your bald old man : 

St> once more listen to a heart-rang lay, — 
This lay of life-long love for you, — 

m Bran, 

Graystead : 

On this, Our Silver- Wedding L^ 



v. 

THE Gil 






THE LEGEND 



v. 
TUAOOB. 

1. 

11 Tis Attinga for Silver-Wedding meed,- 

Unless this Dwarf give othc — 

King Arthur said—" Tliat each bed 

His goblet " (then the Dwarf bowed 1 

11 On this true pair whose Gunfi shall riii£ 

From silver harp when bard shall sing 
At other Silver- Weddings, still. 

In time to come. Thy hand can thrill 
The silver harp, my Taliessin ! — 
The silver harp thy skill did win, 



214 THE LEGEND. 

In great Eisteddfod, whose awards 
Named thee justly Chief of Bards, — 
This thine the silver harp to thrill, 
With chords, or grave, or gay, at will, 
For battle, or joust with splintered lance, 
Or sing sweet wounds of love's soft glan< 
Chief of Bards ! none other dreading ! — 
Canst tune thy harp for a Silver-Wedding ? " 



Lest any at his skill might carp. 
Taliessin took his silver harp : 
The Dwarf gave look, tho' grave, not hard; 
And gravely struck one chord, the Bard, 
From harp, lest distuned note should wrong. 
Taliessin's Silver- Wedding Song. 

11 Noble knight ! and fair, true wife ! 
Time a holie grace is shedding 



THE LEGEND. 215 

Grace of booI, and grace of life 

Shining on your Silver- Wedding ! 

God made man for knighilie stour, 

Wondrous bean! be woman ; 

Beautic, youth, I :h. their down, 

W< ID : 

1, twice, marrii 

•11 now i 
Only on tme man and * 
Tim< 
Grar 
Shining on * 

The king poured wji sin, 

And laid : M Thou doei afl truly win 

Tin- cup thai eui 

- r harp woo by awai 



216 THE LEGEND. 



III. 



And felt they, all, that something more, 
Than emptie fame, the winged years bore, 
Of worth, than gain by sword or lance, 
Or amorous, loose, gay dalliance ; 
Felt deeper care had chevalrie, 
Than battle, joust, and revelrie: 
True, tried faith should fill the life 
Of knight and dame, true man and wife. 
Pricked to heart, as sin they saw 
By conscience dragged before its law, 
They all resolve to mend their ways ; 
But doom, with mordred, and evil days 
Shall come ; shall come with the heartenesse ; 
Shall fill the land with sore distrt 

IV. 

Ay me, — not long they'll feel this dread 
Tho' one hath come there from the dead. 



THE LEGEND. 217 

From the dead ! Yea : the Sainct Dubrece, 

By wayside lone his life laid down, 

Thro' vigil spent ; his soul in peace 

Changed thorny chapelet for heavenlie crown : 

But heaven, with the Sainct kept faith, 

And sent to Arthur's hall his wraith : 

In guise of Dwarf, the Samct there stood, 

And spoke the court by God his Bood. 

But oar tin, of name and fan 

Careless will he both knight and dame, 

Thoughtless most on God or Sainct, 

Faithless there in DO irleiie, 

Tho' Sainct Duhreee ma complaint : 

Thereat, the Kvil one shall Bmile ; 

The Evil one shall many beguile. 

v. 

But from the court and Table liound 
And all the land, the evil day, 
The day of doom, may now delay 



218 THE LEGEND. 

A space for penitence ; for found 
Therein, in life and wedlock sound, 
Is noble pair, all free from blame, 
Sir Cradocke and his beautious dame : 
Oh, would that all may prize their fame! 

VI. 

The silver gifts, court-pages place 
On the ladies' palfrey of gentle pace. 
Quoth Sir Cradocke, — "By my sword! 
A true, good wife is of the Lord, 
And my best gift: so she shall ride, 
This dame, my Silver- Wedding bride, 
On pillion, with me, on Tuagor, — 
He hath bravelie borne us both before : — 
Farewell Sir Arthur, our lord and king!" 
"God speed ye both, and, safe, home, bring," 
Said King Arthur: and then did ring, 
The carved rafters, as the Table Round, 
With "God Speed! " made the hall resound. 



THE LEGEND. 219 



VII. 



Sir Cradocke, Sir Cradocke! true knight one of 
three : 
And chaste, one of three, is your ladie so fair: 
Your fleet Tnagoi ifl a war-horse of three: 
Tuagor, so strong and so fleet to bear 
Yourself, and your h thro 1 the p. 

And onslaught of caitiffs, or demons of air; 
Thro' spell of enchanter; thro 1 wily adcta 
And glamour of wizzard, or witch, — thro 1 the air 
Hurtling with weapons of th. - of hell, 

So strong and so fleet doth your Tuagor bear 
Both you, and your ladie so fair and so chaste, 
On pillion behind you, her arm round your waist. 
Sir Cradocke post Prydain ! 
Of The Battle Knights Three ! 



* Tuagor, the War Horse— the spirit of counsel and ghostly 
strength; which in man supports virtue (vir- virtue) and 
chastituB in woman. 



220 THE LEGEND. 

Rein up for a charge — 
Caradoc Bran! 
— Now, " God ! and dear ladie ! M — 
Sir Cradocke, the Strong Arm'd! knightlie and well! 
Your strong arm is rais'd, knightlie and well ! 
To guard her, and you, against powers of hell, 
Or onslaught of knaves, as you crash through the 

press — 
Strong-soul knight in trial and stress! 
And strong is, and fleet, Tuagor! to bear 
Sir Cradocke, with the Ladie so chaste and so fair! 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 

PART V. 



THE GIFTS. 

i. 

The North-west Wind, with bracing, kindly cold, 
Had clear'd away the hazy evening damp- 
And murky halos from the tree-hung lamps: 
Thro' glowing windows, hearth and houselight told 
Still warmer welcome, when to Gray stead roll'd 
The wheels of coming friends ; and Graystead wore, 
Under starlights out from heaven hung, 
Bright look of cheer to those who near'd its door 

wedding guests : the friends with gifts and token 
To crown the Silver- Wedding of twain who clung 
Thro' life, God-join'd with tie that naught had broken. 



•222 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

II. 

With common purpose, as for greater state, 
The wedding guests a train had form'd, before 
The highway led their course to Graystead gate, 
Where thro' now, carriage after carriage bore 
A friendly load to land at Graystead' s door. 
And greetings after greetings kindly pass'd 
Exchange of friendship, thro' long years, amass'd 
Against the years of dearth and loss, when corn 
And oil fail ; and only stand, forlorn 
Tho' nourishing, the almond tree and thorn. 
Nor only friends of youth their greeting made ; 
But youth itself was there, and reverence paid ; 
For Bran and Helen's house was one where youth 
Met Pleasure kindly led by faithful Truth. 

in. 

Then, — as gather'd there in Graystead hall, 
The greetings past, they stood in silence, all, 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 223 

Save that the huge, hall chimney roar'd aloud 
Its welcome still, — one, from the wedding guests 
Beforehand chosen spokesman for the rest, 
One bright of eye tho' age his shoulders bow'd, 
Stepp'd forth and thus the worthy pair addrest : 



" True-married ! we come to you, to celebrate 
Your Silver- Wedding: and, with forethought sown 
And ripen 'd to fruit in counsel, are we come 
To you : as having judged you worthy twain 
Whose Silver -Wedding claims far other meed 
Of honour and observance than is dealt 
Mere, passing, blaring anniversaries, 
Quack advertisements on wayside milestones 
Of Time. For, taking counsel among ourselves, 
Who most of us have known you long and well : 
And knowing well how truly man and wife 
Ye twain together bound as one have lived 
After God's own holy ordinance, 



224 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Wherein is symbol blent with blessing 
For all create of God and, by His will, 
Continuing creation, each the like 
With like- unlike, all after their own kind ; 
Believing, too, that thus the model set 
In union of God-join'd and life-true pair, 
And thus the symbol and significance : 
We, after counsel, found us all agreed, 
Held that a Silver-Wedding mark'd a point 
Where culminates the upheav'd range of life, 
Whereon is beacon set that all should heed, 
Should tend with a common zeal, to keep alive 
The signal shining for the common weal. 
And thinking thus, with one accord was made 
Decision that our tribute to your worth, 
At this your Silver -Wedding, should denote, 
Not only honour, and the love of friends, 
But mark a sense of common welfare bound 
With loyal married life : no vulgar show, 
As if each guest thus sought to advertise 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 225 

In troy of jeweller's hardware all bis wealth, 

Should any make ; b-it all should give the gift 

Of all, betokening the love of all, 

And wrought to show a meaning symbolized 

For all, those giving, as for those endow'd. 

But furthermore, that each of us might show 

An individual regard, it was held. 

An added let jst 

Should show how each would do you reverence. 

44 And much we east ab at " —continued he 
The spokesman, making reverence as Ik- spoke — 
44 How art should fashion be I :'ts in silver, 

To show the meaning, thus, our hearts would speak; 
Till one among us, one much read in \o\ 
And legend of an ancient time, then told 
A tale of Arthur's court : how thither, once, 
There came an unknown dwarf, who honour brought 
On married pair of noble knight and dame, 
Thro' magic gifts, — a mantle, gold-wrought horn, 
And knife wherewith to carve the boar's head, true : 



226 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

And how that Arthur hearing that the day, 

Whereon this noble pair had won these gifts, 

Scor'd five and twenty faithful married years 

For them, ordain'd, in honour of their worth, 

The use and custom of the Silver- Wedding ; 

And how, for further honour, king and court 

Each gave to them the silver cup wherein 

With wine he pledged that noble knight and dame 

Long life and all prosperity. This tale 

Soon made us all of one consenting mind 

What gifts to choose as best betokening 

The honour all would show your Silver- Wedding — 

The more" — here humour mingled with his speech- 

"That since a Cambrian pedigree ascends 

To Adam, and in law is absolute 

As title deed;* we hold you, from your name, 

As from your own and your dear lady's worth. 

One who may most justly claim descent 

* Fo^brooke's Antiquities. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 227 

From that Sir Cradocke the doughty knight, with 

dame 
So fair and true, of whom the legend tells. 
And therefore we — but let the gifts themselv* 
Set forth the meaning and the love of friends 
Expressed in tribute to your sterling worth, 
To crown, O time-tried pair, your Silver- Wedding!* 1 

At sign from him, there enter'd then the hall 
A smiling, youthful train; young men and maidens 
Bringing in, on massive silver salver 
Borne, the costly Silver-Wedding tok< n. 
For it was wrought with cost, sinoe all — and some 
Were wealthy -had :_ r i\< heir means 

To show their love: and BO U f all 

Was worthy of all, but a I the wealth 

Of none ; oified the love of all. 

The base that rested on the silver salver 
Was silver thickly armor'd all with gold, 

And toward the centre fl vlls a knoll 

Uplifted from a plain: and on this height, 

p2 



228 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Oa legs carv'cl all of gold as lion paws, 
Was held a drinking horn; a bison's horn, 
Short-curv'd and broad, and polish'd ebon-black, 
Gold-wrought with bands of vine and leaves of grapes, 
From tip to brim : and also, round the brim 
Was bound an antique crown of gold, and gold 
The inside lined; and, after ancient fashion, 
Gold drinking pegs, that pierced the lining, mark'd 
The measure of the wine: and on the base, 
Beneath the horn, between the carv'd gold paws, 
A goodly silver platter sate, whereon 
Was cunningly, in silver likewise, wrought 
A boar's head and a knife, a silver harp. 
The symbol of will, with will, in concord blent, 
Beside the platter with boar's head, gave 
The horn support in front; and over the horn, 
With draping folds spread gracefully, was thrown 
A mantle wrought of silver enamell'd all 
A royal purple; save where a narrow stripe, 
Edging the purple gold with soften'd glow 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 229 

A mellow border form'd, on lustrous brink 
Of silver lining all the purple cloud ; 
And one great pearl, an orient pearl of price, 
Was f^et in gold to form the mantle's clasp. 

And as the youthful band bore in this gift, 
though to Bran and Helen came 
A train of honor following their married life 
liven upwards from their youth, to crown 
Their Silver- Weddu 

Then each wedding gnc 
Placed on the silver Balver, his silver cup 
Modest, but solid: and each cap was mark'd 
To whom the gift, and with t - name 

Engraved with motto: " Honour the Silver- Wedding." 
And the goblets heap'd and weighted so the salver, 
That glad were they who bore the load 
To place it on a buffet standing near. 

44 Kind dear friends' 1 — began then Bran to speak: 
But all the fullness of his heart well'd up and drown'd 
His speech : so that he paused : and simply thankd 



230 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Their guests for all the honour done them hoth — 
"But" said he — "most honour he to her, 
The faithful wife and mother; wherefore, pray, 
Let these your gifts so rich and rare, he given 
As it were to her: that thus, thro' her, may come 
To me, a share of this great honour done 
By you, dear friends, our Silver-Wedding." 

"0 ay," said he, the same who spoke hefore 
For all ; as though he sought in sympathy 
To hide with humour Bran's emotion — "ay, 
Thrice ay, t'were well — it is a drinking horn — 
To make the gift thro' her, since may — who knows ? — 
Our fair hostess, your dear lady, claim 
Prayerful dominion over drinking horn 
And cups. There he now strange tilings heard in air, 
And strange things done and seen — so haste my friend, 
Lest a sudden, a bacchanal rage of prayer 
Sieze all these fair dames present here, hefore — 
Haste ! my friend, fill drinking horn and cup — 
We pledge in wine ' God speed the Silver- Wedding! ' M 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 231 

Thro' that resilience with which emotion 
Springs unbent, Laugh'd Helen and the ladies 
Anl Helen gracefully accepting then 
The token, said she took the gift as made, 
But fear'd no ill therefrom : since she could see 
How plain the drinking pegs, in gold-text; mark'd 
The sentence ; u Using <ts not abimn 

Wine 
Was brought; and one, a priest, uow bent with weight 
Of years and reverend calling, who had joined 
The hands of Bran and Helen in their youth, 
Bl -sing in the Master's name their marriage wine — 
Then, seeing that these twain had lived together 
After God's own holy ordinance 
As one, rais'd hand- and. now the Becond time, 
Blebs'd wine for them, at this their Silver- Wedding. 
Then from the gold-wrought horn rehlTd at need, 
The guests their goblets till'd, and all there drank — 
4i (iod speed the Silver- Wedding — that so may these, 
Our honour'd friends, their wedded life find moor'd 



232 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

At anchor safe again, near where the sun 
Unclouded on their Golden -Wedding day 
Shall go to gild, against there coming, th' isles 
Of the Blessed, and mountain peaks, and all 
The sleeping land rising to meet the day ! " 

Bran and Helen, from the gold- wrought horn, 
Then pledged their guests, with meet acknowledge- 
ment. 
And scarce had finish'd : when a servitor — 
An ancient white-hair'd servitor whose boast 
Was how his master's boyhood days had vex'd 
His charge with prankish mischief — interrupted 
The bee-like hum of converse which declar'd 
A ceremony over, with his prompt made 
Announcement of the wedding supper serv'd. 
At which, laughingly, the youthful band, again, 
Took up the salver ; and, follow'd by the rest, 
March'd to place the gifts upon the board. 

What need to say that Meadows kept her word? — 
That naught of roast, or boil or bake, or crust, 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 233 

Did fail of savoury witness to high art. 

And science, at this Silver- Wedding feast ; 

Or why detail the course and incidents 

Of feast and joy-making ? much the same, 

Chief differing in degree, or means, or state, 

All feasts have been since, now these thousand years 

And more, the people Bat down to meat, and rose 

To play ; and this grave epithalamium 

Chants rather a ohorale of the Silver- Wedding, 

Singing its symbolism for the theme, 

Than moves to blitheful measun - Hymen leads 

In youth. Yel was the dance not wanting there; 
For Bran and Helen, with all the elder folk, 
Sacrifice to youth in an ancient dance. 

And games were play'd ; and kindly pleasure ruled 
With chasteii'd joy their Silver- Wedding evening; 
And songs were sung — nay even he, the bent 
Old man, the marshal of the gifts, was moved 
To sing ; and shrewdly smiling, first he told 
The younger folk his song was well to learn 



234 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

For love, and love-making, as for all things else ; 
And then, thus quaver 'd he : — 

The Song of Time. 

As wrong is he who knows not how to wait, 

As he who ever is too late : 
Know this of ohne liast, of oJuie rast * — 
Go sometimes slowly, a little sometimes fast, 
On safest course, the middle way, 
That sun-path rounding all our day. 

" Perhaps," said he, when he had sung, " my song 
May hint our day well spent more ways than one : 
And that, with all the times for other things, 
There also is a time to sleep : a time 
For all — old-folk and young — to be in bed." 
To which, good-humour'dly, assented all 
Agreed that Time had right to speak a hint 
In plain language : and leave-taking commenc'd, 

* Goethe. — "Without haste, without rest." 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 235 

And many the kind hopes, and kind wishes, spoken : 

And at the last, with one acclaim, all, guests 

And host, join'd in " God speed the Silver- Wedding ! " 

Bran stood watching his departing guests 
Until a star-lit grove beyond his grounds 
Had hid the last : and as is oft the wont 
Of one, to look to learn what of the night. 
Before he turn from parting guests to go 
Within ; so Bran look'd up, and saw, with heart 
All grateful, how the silver star- lamps spread 
A calm, clear, steady light throughout the heavens, 
On this his Silver- Wedding night, Howbeit, 
Whether from reaction : or that, all 
True human happiness must rest on chastening ; 
Bran Cradocke, looking up to heaven, said 
In low, sad tone, — "per aiper.i ad astra." 
But, none less grateful, he: and gratitude 
Was his, that sought to render thanks, thro* those 
In need, back to the Giver : so would he now 
Shelter even the wayside tramp he saw 



236 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

Beneath a huge oak, standing near the gates 
To watch the passing guests. And Bran, going 
Toward him, — " God of mercy, and Good Shepherd !— 
Helen ! — mother ! — our son ! — the lost is found ! M 
For he knew him from afar ; and ran, 
And fell upon his neck, and kissed him : 
And took the wan, starv'd form beneath the oak 
Whose mighty limb reach'd thro* the star-lit night, 
As tho' an arm stretch'd out from heaven to give 
The lost one back ; and in his own arms bore 
He him, houseware"!, to meet the trembling mother 
Hastening toward them : and between them held, 
Bran and Helen hailed their new-found son 
Home, to warm and feed him at their hearth. 

Ah, sacred joy of that house : and none 
But words that tell of kindred angel-joy 
Over the one sinner that repenteth, may 
Have power to speak it. 

Came then all imbid 
The household: but dismiss'd were soon, bv beck 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 287 

Authoritative, of their white-hair'd chief, 
The ancient servant : but himself would stay 
A space, by virtue of his service length, 
To brisk the fire before he left the hall. 
And Meadows, too, made brief stay, bringing food; 
Uut soon would go to make, she said, a posset, 
And — said the mother — a lire in the nursery, 
And there, to-night, his bed. Then, left alone 
(For long asleep were now the younger children) 
With their long-l the parents warm'd 

And cherish' d him ; for he was >ick, and wasted, 
And had been long absent from their hearth. 
And his father forgave him all, and bless'd him 
Now humble as Little child : and then, when they 
Had succour'd him, the mother would have him, 
Between them holpen, to the nursery ; 
For she said he was as born again 
To her, and he, — M Yea, mother, for I had come 
To die near you, somewhere, unworthy to come 



238 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

To you ; and the life twice -given from you both, 
God helping me, shall be, indeed, new life." 

There spoke the strong soul of the father in him — 
Strong in humility wherewith God lifts 
The wrestler up from all the overthrow 
And wretchedness of sin. And too, the frame 
Of the wanderer, stalwart copy of his father's, 
Emaciate though it was, gave hope that still 
Might brawny strength return to him again, 
Thro' patience of recoverance. But now, 
All weak was he, as a sick child ; and as 
A sick child, would the mother have him near ; 
To watch, and tend, and sooth to rest. Nor might 
He tell, until returning strength repaid 
Long days and nights of anxious watching, 
How wilfulness, charing at wise governance, 
Rejected it, and wrought a soul-weakness 
That fell before the passions rushing in 
With riotous living that wasted him ; until 
The son of their prayers had prostrate lain among 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 239 

The potsherds, feeding on the husks of vice. 
And losing his faith, the world became to him 
Without a God ; and so, his evil way of life 
Countenanc'd suspicion of crime ; and he 
Tho' innocent, and afterwards prov'd innocent, 
Was driven out from men, to misery 
And want — yet had, he said, of his father's strength 
Enough, rather to beg, or starve, than steal. 

But never could he close all his soul against 
His mother's voice, hearing it in the night : 

tho 1 a child held in her arms, he heard 
Her singing songs of one who was Good Shepherd 
That brought home in his arms lost sheep, coming 
Over hills all mellow-bright with golden sunset — 
AVhereon, the soul of the mother hearing this 
Sang, inwardly, the Song of the Virgin Mother, 
For this Salvation sent thro' her. Also, 
He told how he, repentant, would have come 
Home to them, but was ashamed : and yet 
Must come, constraint! beyond him, to their gates 



240 THE SILVER WEDDING. 

To look on, from afar, the honour crowning 

The lives to which he was but grievous cross 

And cruel thorn. " And there,' ' said he, with holy, 

Filial tears, " my father found and took 

Me, perishing with want and misery, 

To his great heart ; and blessed mother, you — 

You sav'd your son." 

This told w T hen strength return'd ; 
But now, seeing his weakness, Helen sat 
As in his childhood, by his bed, with arm 
Beneath his pillow, softly placed : and gently, 
All the mother soothed her child to rest. 



THE SILVER WEDDING. 241 



Sweet is the rest 
Of the Soul come home to God, 

Humble as little child : 

Sweet, as on breast 
Of a mother, sleep of child 
Soothed from the pain of the chastening rod, 
Soothed by the lullaby, low and mild, 
Vibrating softly the mother's breast 
Thrilling and singing the child to rest : 

Sweet is this rest. 



THE EPILOGUE. 



Q 2 



THE EPIL 



IfSTAPHl 

iii larder m from library beard I M 
And wherefrom ban from \\\. fjan 

All i mind and tboughi on 

mal beartb, 

•icult man, in thankful h 

Denying to himoAlf ■ pari of food, 
Hia toil'd for food, mad* tcrifiee 

Of offerings burnt, and of libation ponr'd, 

In lo -ii ; that BO, Propitiation 

Mijjlit follow on Renunciation ; on 



246 THE EPILOGUE. 

Thanksgiving, favour, from the Power unseen, 

Let in, around, above him felt. And then, 

His mind on thought fed, — "Where, and what, is 

He? 
And all things, what are they? and what are we? 
How get more food? how keep and dress this Earth? 
I think — therefore I am : but wl, birth? 

And death? and grief wl . and wherefore 

mirth? 



ii. 



For thinking man lives not by broad alone: 
His soul to die refuses, seeking f 
Immortal; searching thro* religion, art. 
And Bcienoe; even thro' his energ 
Of building and destroying; blinded I 
Thro 1 very eagerness of search, by di 
He stirs from cracks and crannies nearest him, 
And for a while his right be dimmed: but tears 



THE EPILOGUE. 247 

Of baffled immortality to brim 

Of strairul i . and wash away his feu 

His donbtas and material hindrance, — 

bring In d: 

And the soun human sou] 

And mind, self 

Earth 

Individual, ociio thrall, 

i toorruptible 

, whole 
mind, 

mankind-soul, know* man to 
• immorl 

u m the flesh; bat lire 
Here, and fau I 4. 

But i ding thro' ti. tra 

materialism may, like carava 

timily kneeling, there be overwhelmed 
With sure destruction, and behold no more 
The calm, blue heaven and the ,^>lu.n >un 



248 THE EPILOG TE. 

Enduring still in glory, beyond, above 
The storm of pitiless, cutting, material fact, 
Which, blinding first, shall bury them alive. 

in. 

Where better, then, than under roof 
Of home, which nursery, larder, library covers, 
Be centr'd all of God and man's behoof, 
In union true of God-join'd, life-long lovers. 
For nations are by man and woman built, 
And nations fall thro' man and woman's guilt. 
Without God in the family! this it means — 
Without God in the World! nay worse, it mean- 
The World without a God. Never ignor'd 
Be God; but under family roof-tree be ador'd 
As Teraphim, The Three in One, the God Triune, 
Who blends the All in one harmonious tune 
The God All Father who creates the All 
The All to build thro' law in loving thrall 
And quest of mate to mate, thro' male-female 



THE EPILOGUE. 249 

The God who heard free will's despairing wail 

For help from choosing wrong from right; and 

hearing, 
So lov'd the world, that with His highest work 
1 lis Holy Spirit wed: the God, who nearing 
Humanity for finishing His work. 
The world so lov'd of Him, gave Christ, His Son 
Made man, to death; that victory might he won 
By man from death. This God, with power divine, 
At Cana made and hless'd the marriage wine. 



i\. 

Well may a Silver-Wedding crown the state 
And being of the All of God create, 
Since All builds All thro' sex, thro' male-female, 
From lowest up to highest, thro' the the scale 
That ends in man. And in the God-join'd pair 
Of God's best work, who God's own image bear, 
Are type and blessing there all culminate, 



250 THE EPILOGUE. 

Of all God's work thro' quest of mate to mate, 

Where, in a Silver -Wedding, culminate 

Is cycle of a generation. Tliine, 

God! therefore, the miracle divi 

At Cana wrought to bless The Marriage Wine. 

Then awoke I from my dream. For I had dream'd 
And in my dream it was as tho 1 one stood 
Singing on the porch a morning song 
In the bright, glad beams of a rising ran, 
Rejoicing in the fresh, spring morning air. 
And it was one from whom my being came; 
Who, from a life of pain n leas d, had ohang'd 
The priest's white robe he wore on earth, for robes 
Brighter, of tho- Qfi the kings and prk 

To God : and as lie sang I knew his voic 
But scarcely could behold him thro' the crevice 
That straiu'd a slender ray faint shimmering thro' 
Clos'd window blinds of a room all darken'd else. 
For so it scem'd, that I was in a room 
Not open'd yet to day ; and, in the dark. 



THE EPILOGUE. 251 

triple-bank'd with keys ; 
Whereon groping for ki . I sought 

To in 5 of him who, bright of face, 

kg in the sunlight. And with him 

Bat thro' the h 

I tumid 1" -ug, my hands trembled, 

. irk : and many chords 
I tnifl d : ao ild <»nly ring in part — 

»nly in | thick wall I : 

And the organ n U'd 

i by fanning win Teat 

rolum'd | J I not master it, 

irk ; and BO, in part 

Only, could I join t; of him 

Who m the sunlight iao tho 1 in part 

Only, I knew I sang the truce of God ; 
t symbol, weaving in an old-world tale. 



L'ENVOY. 

Give most honour to faithful wife and moth 
She hath right to it more than any other, 
Who thro' wedded life, virgin soul retaining, 
Who on marriage dishonour never bringing, 
Trains up children, with gentle hand restrain] 
Trains towards heaven her children round her 

dinging, 
Kuh's her husband, him good man never know 
(Tho' known well, in the gates with elders sitting 
There all matters weigh \1 — mostly logic Bplittu 
On all, house and home, comfort dear bestowing ; 
And fair children all, virgin maid of honour, 
Lives unwedded in duty laid upon her. 
Shall have worship, because of th 1 angels seeing ; 
Life-true woman is God's best, purest being. 
Place aux dames ici ! dametdu moytn Age! oui t 



LENYOY. 253' 

Place (Vhonneur! let each heart be crying, as ^Ye 

W tried woman true, — maiden aunt, or mother. 
But moei honour to faithful wife and mother ; 
She hath right to it more than any other: 

1, true, el Dwarfs eye never dreading — 

true Qne< n is si n'd at Silver- Wedding. 









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